A Girl With Daddy Issues
by Madam Mimm
Summary: Post S6, technically alternate s7? The Winchesters don't know how to fix a crazy Cas. Then the answer finds them. "The answer" here being a norse goddess, who just happens a certain archangel's estranged daughter. Eventual Sam/Gabe, eventual Dean/Cas
1. Chapter 1

Castiel disappeared with a blinding flash of light, and somehow their brains seemed to autopilot. They half ran, half staggered out of Crowley's morgue, back to Bobby's, saying nothing, thinking nothing. Dean felt he should be screaming out, crying _"Oh shit, Castiel has gone off the deep end and there's nothing I can do". _He couldn't get past the "oh shit".

The rain pelted them, the mud sucked at their feet, the wind screeched about them, demons and angels conspicuous in their absence.

The three grown men made it to the panic room in a fit of blind terror, locking the door and mumbling banishment and protection rituals as they went. Sam was still weak from whatever soul-searching he'd been doing while he was out. He was shaking, for god… for… Pete's sake, he looked like he was in shock. Bobby was grim, and confused, and did what came naturally; he took care of Sam. He knew how to treat shock. Caring for someone, fixing a problem he knew he could deal with. That was his way of regaining control over the situation.

Dean just felt his ragged breathing in his chest, not quite taking in as much of it as he should. Where his mind had been near empty before, now his thoughts sprung to life, so many of them so conflicted that he could actually feel his head spinning. He looked at the ceiling.

"Bobby…" He croaked, finding his voice unusually tight and hoarse. "You need to get some new lights in here."

"What are you talking about, Dean?" Bobby didn't look up from where he was trying to get Sam to drink from some bottled water.

"It's not lit properly. It's all dark in the corners."

"Have you gone…?" Bobby started, but he was cut off when Dean passed out on the floor.

A day passed.

Two.

Three.

They heard nothing. Bobby ventured out of the panic room more and more often.

Four.

Five.

Bobby managed to convince Sam and Dean to come out into the main house. It was all angel and demon-proofed, and correctly, this time. Sam had taken it upon himself to explain what had happened while he was out, and Bobby had reciprocated by explaining what Sam missed.

Dean hadn't spoken a single word since he came to. He smiled, at times, listened and understood what Sam and Bobby said, responding to their questions, but he said nothing.

They knew, deep down, that if Castiel was as powerful as he had said, all the angel-proofing in the world couldn't protect them, but it was a small comfort.

Six.

They heard nothing from any angels. They heard nothing from demons. They heard nothing from Cas.

Bobby got phone calls from other hunters, asking whether he knew anything about the weird fluxes of monsters, migrating, it seemed. The surge of odd events and unexplainable phenomena. He did, but he had no idea how to begin explaining it.

Seven.

Bobby unplugged the phones.

Eight.

Dean can't fix cars. He can't go outside. He sits in his room, listening to a Led Zeppelin CD he found. His smile, which was forced over the first few days, and weary more recently, now becomes even weaker and rarer. He angles the speakers on the stereo so that the noise cocoons him.

Nine.

Sam finds himself reminding Dean to eat and sleep. He tries to help Bobby, but with what, he's not sure. It's been so long since he just spent time on himself, rather than dedicating every moment to the next hunt, or the next stage of their plan… so long since he wasn't running. He doesn't know what to do.

Ten.

Bobby suggests they sort out all the books and paper that are strewn around the office. Dean silently abstains. Sam is glad of the distraction.

Eleven.

They hear an almighty crashing outside, like the entire scrapheap is being torn apart and thrown away. Dean stumbles downstairs, looking wide eyed and alert for the first time in days. Sam tries to see out of the window, but can't make anything out. There is a knocking, no, a hammering at the door.

A desperate, terrified slamming against the door, begging for entrance. More as a reflex than anything else, they all grab weapons before moving towards the source of the noise. The door opens to reveal a girl, about fifteen years old, her white and yellow summer dress torn and dirtied, her long black hair hanging unkempt down past her shoulders. Her skin is pale and her face is gaunt. A combination of blood and grime cover what parts of her skin aren't covered by the ruined dress. She is small, some would say petite, but also scrawny. Sam thinks she may not have eaten in a while.

Her eyes, a sort of grey-green that isn't quite hazel and isn't quite pewter, flash dangerously as she stares from one to the other, holding herself up by gripping onto the doorframe. She is ragged, but she has not come this far to step wrong now.

"Winchester?" She whispers, or croaks. The word sounds foreign on her tongue, but the suspicious men nod. She almost sighs with relief, but the exhalation is absorbed as her entire form sinks to the floor, as she cries and falls asleep, mumbling a word in a language Dean doesn't know.

"So what is she?" Sam stared down at the scrawny girl. She lay unconscious on the bed in the panic room. The fact that they got her in there suggests that she's not demon or angel, but the one thing they can agree on is that she's not human. Bobby puffed air out through his cheeks.

"Be damned if I know. I've never seen anything like this before."

Dean was standing at the back of the room, arms crossed, mistrusting. None of them could stop staring at her legs.

None of them would say they'd ever paid particular attention to any fifteen year old girl's legs, and they'd certainly never stared at any, but this wasn't that kind of staring.

Her arms, her face, her neck…. They were pale, milk-white. But, where her legs emerged from the ripped and torn dress, they saw her legs were black. They were ashen, and, though they felt like flesh, they were the colour of coal. Burnt embers. Volcanic rock. Whatever she was, she wasn't human.

Bobby covered her with a blanket, before turning to Sam.

"What was that she was saying as we brought her in? I couldn't catch it."

"Helly don? I don't know, something like that." Sam shrugged, straddling a chair and staring at her. Something about her worried him, and not just the fact that she'd turned up looking like she'd crawled out of a grave and collapsed in front of them. While she was out, they'd tested her for everything they could think of, and gotten no definitive answer.

"Helligdom." The word was hoarse, and scratchy, and caused Sam and Bobby to stare at Dean. "It's Norwegian. It means "sanctuary"."

Sam stared at Dean. He shrugged.

"I looked it up. I'm good at guessing accents."

"Alright." Bobby nodded, seemingly happy enough to pretend this wasn't the first thing Dean had spoken in nearly two weeks. "So we have a Norwegian _something _turning up on our door and begging for sanctuary. Now we know what kind of lore to look at."

They agreed to take it in shifts; one person watching the girl, one person reading through every scrap of information on Norse Lore Bobby had (Sam was now very glad they'd sorted out all of his research when they had the chance) and one person sleeping. Dean was the first to sleep. He took over from Sam on the research, and found a few possibilities, but nothing concrete. After five hours, Bobby suggested he go down to the panic room. Sam looked up from where he had been staring at her,

"Is she… does she seem familiar to you?"

"Familiar?" Dean paused for a moment. "When I was in high school, I used to know a girl about her age who'd throw herself at me like she threw herself through the door…"

"No." Sam tried to look exasperated, but he couldn't help but feel relieved at the idea of his brother joking once more. "There's something about her. Something really familiar. Like lead-weight-in-my's-stomach kind of familiar."

"Huh… or, maybe you need some sleep."

"Well, that is a possibility." Sam shrugged. He had just stood up to go, when the girl sat bolt upright. She looked at Sam and Dean.

Sam and Dean looked at her.

She screamed.

She was, in an instant, up against the wall, eyes wide with fear, pointing a dagger at them (Dean wondered where she'd been keeping it that they wouldn't have found it while testing her). She was yelling at them, an angry stream of foreign words.

"Hvem er du? Hvorfor er jeg her? Du kan ikke stoppe meg, Jeg finner ham, jeg bare vil ha min far, vennligst…"

"Woah! We're… we're ok." Dean crouched down slightly, so he could look her in the eyes, and held up his hands. The international sign for "please don't stab me". Sam followed suit.

"Do you speak English?"

"English?" The girl repeated, more to herself. She stopped for a moment, deep in thought, and then nodded. "Yes. I can do English." Her accent was surprisingly British, as though she had been born and raised there, although the fact that she was speaking Norwegian five seconds ago suggested otherwise. It wasn't as clipped or refined as Balthazar's, and it wasn't as rough as Crowley's, but it still had an edge of the Tea-and-Scones about it. She lowered her knife, slowly.

"Are you the… Winchesters?"

"Yes. I'm… I'm Sam, and this is Dean."

"Yes. I remember now. Sorry." She relaxed a little, stepping forward from the wall. She was still tense. Now she was stood, and calm, Sam looked at her. She was a little over five foot tall, and her hair, when it was clean and not all tangled and dirty, was probably a blackish brown and naturally straight, hanging down to her shoulders. Right now, it was a muddy rusty red mess of knots and tangles. He realised she wasn't holding the knife any more.

"Great. So you know who we are. Want to return the favour?"

Bobby, his timing impeccable as ever, stormed into the panic room, holding a large and dusty book.

"I know who she is. She's Hel."

"Yes." The girl smiled, looking a little embarrassed. "But I know how confusing that can get in a Judeo-Christian based society such as yours, so… You can call me Hella, if you want."

"Oh, of course." Dean nodded, and then turned to Bobby. "Expand?"

"She's the Norse goddess of Death."

"Hardly." She smirked, a lopsided almost-sneer that stirred the feeling of familiarity in Sam once more. She sat on the edge of the bed, kicking her feet as they scraped the floor. "I'm the overseer of Helheim. I take in whoever comes seeking bed and care, which will be those who die of old age or sickness. I'm the social worker of the nine worlds, basically."

"But that's not all she is." Bobby was watching her very carefully, as if afraid of what she might do. Sam thought that was a little strong. Sure, she was a goddess, but she didn't look particularly aggressive.

"Well done." She smiled again, another very familiar smile. "You've been doing your research. That's actually what I came here to talk to you about."

"What?" Dean growled, picking up on the tense atmosphere. "Does someone want to tell me what's going on?"

"Hella here is technically only a demi-god. She's part Frost Giant, her mother is Angrboda. And her father…"

Sam looked at her. She pulled herself up to her full height (admittedly not much), and stuck her chin out. As the light caught her eyes, the grey-green shone, and for a moment, at just the right angle, there was enough yellow in them that they looked oddly gold.

"Her father is Loki. Aka the Trickster, aka…" Bobby sighed, and rolled his eyes. "The archangel Gabriel."

There was something of a stunned silence. Sam, for some reason, had guessed it before Bobby said anything, and had really been hoping he was going to say just about any other name. Dean nodded twice, thinking over this information, before flashing a sarcastic smile.

"Nice meeting you. Get the hell out."

"Is that a pun? Because it's not a good one, if it is." She pulled her legs up so that she sat cross-legged on the bed, exposing her coal-like shins. "And calm down. I've heard a few things about your… history with my dad. He's not the easiest of people to get along with. But I came here to ask for your help, and I'm not leaving 'til I get it."

"What do you want?" Sam was intrigued. She had a few of her father's mannerisms, although seemed somewhat more petulant. He supposed, if Gabriel was a teenage girl, he'd act something like this. Then he realised what a weird thought that was, and hoped Hella didn't have any sort of mind reading ability.

"This whole "soul, purgatory, crazy angel upstairs" thing…" She started, then clicked her fingers, and looked surprised when nothing happened.

"If you have any of your dad's angel-powers, they're not going to work in here." Bobby said, watching her very carefully. She sighed, irritated.

"Well can I go and get a sandwich or something then? And a shower? I've been on the run for, like, weeks."

"Not until you tell us what you know, how you know it, and what you want from us."

"Alright, _god_… Sorry, that was probably poor taste." She deadpanned, before jumping to her feet. "Look, you want your buddy off the crazy juice and with his head out of the clouds, right?"

"You mean Cas?" Dean's face was a collection of hard lines. He was unreadable, or being as unreadable as he could make himself.

"No, Orville. Yes, Castiel. Now, I happen to have it, through the rumour mill, that he's not quite as omnipotent as he thinks." Her eyes shone. This was a speech she had prepared, and she spoke slowly, making sure everyone was on the same page. "There's apparently some deep, arcane lore of angel-ism or whatever that can counteract this sticky mess he's gotten himself into. But there's a catch, and one I was coming here to tell you about when the whole world went to shit."

"What catch?" Dean was intrigued, no matter how hard he tried to act neutral.

"Only the archangels know it. And, unless I'm very much mistaken, Raphael was the last one before he went… splurt." She made a fan movement with her hand, as if the point needed emphasising.

"So what do you suggest?" Dean was watching her closely. Sam knew his brother hadn't trusted Gabriel, but putting the mistrust on his kid seemed a little unfair.

"Bring Gabriel back."

Then again, thought Sam, maybe not.

"Gabriel's as dead as Raphael." Bobby crossed his arms, scrutinising her. "It'd make more sense to free Michael or Lucifer, and god… uh… Godiva knows we ain't doing that."

Everyone had been oddly cautious in their "taking god's name in vain" habits lately. Partly out of fear of incurring Castiel's wrath, and partly out of fear of incurring Dean's.

"You guys are so slow." Hella was not impressed. "Look, the archangels know how to deal with the Castiel sitch, right?"

"Did you just say "sitch"?"

"And I know how to get you an archangel."

"Seriously, Sam, you heard her say "sitch". Who is she, Kim Possible?"

"Well, I can do anything."

Hella and Dean stared each other down.

"How can you get us an archangel?" Sam was curious, even if everyone else just wanted to bicker.

"Loopholes." She grinned. It was the same, manic, slightly predatory grin as her father. "Dear old Dad wasn't just an archangel. He became established in the Norse faith as Loki. And, as far as the Loki myth goes, he cannot die until Ragnarok. Which, as any good Viking will tell you, is our end of times story and it hasn't happened yet."

"So… it's like there's a part of him that has to still be alive?"

"Exactly. Good thing you're not as dumb as you look." She smiled at Sam. "But then if you were, you'd be in a coma."

"You think you can bring Gabriel back, just like that?" Dean was more sceptical. Hella shrugged.

"It's not that easy. There are stages. Things have to be done just right. It's a difficult spell to weave."

"But you can do it?"

"Yes. Well… Ninety percent sure."

Dean found his reason to give up.

"Nothing doing." He stormed out of the panic room. Hella ran after him.

"Oh come on! You get your angel; I get my Dad… if I pull this off, everyone wins."

Dean stopped. He turned, looming over Hella. He stared at her, as though she had said something earth shattering.

"Please." She sighed. "I just… want my Dad back. That's why I came to you. You guys can understand that, right?"

Sam poked his head around the doorway of the panic room. Dean glanced at him. Sam shrugged slightly. It seemed like their best bet. If they were going to try anything, it would be this.

Dean sighed, and turned his back on Hella.

"Bathroom's first door upstairs on the right. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Hella bounced on her toes for a bit, yelling "thank you" at Dean's retreating back. Bobby sighed, and said he'd make them something to eat if Hella wanted to get herself cleaned up. Sam smiled, and picked up Bobby's book of lore. She was... well, the next few weeks would be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam prized the caps from two bottles of beer before handing one to Bobby and sitting in one of the chairs opposite his desk.

"Do we know much about her?"

"We know she sings in the shower." Dean muttered as he walked into the room, looking back over his shoulder. "We know she likes The Beatles, and we know she's not a trained singer." He grimaced. "Even you could sing "Hey Jude" better than she just was."

"She's a fairly minor goddess." Bobby shrugged. "She's not particularly well known… or powerful. Like any of the old myths, there's a lot of variation between stories; it probably works out best to just ask her."

"Yeah… but can we trust her?" Dean leant against the desk. "She is Gabriel's kid."

"I don't think she's untrustworthy, Dean." Sam said, between swigs. "She's got no reason to be."

"Other than the part where she's Gabriel's kid, you mean. And she wants to resurrect him. I'm sorry, but anyone who wants to bring him back needs to be treated with suspicion."

"Oh come on. So she's having trouble letting go of her Dad's death; I don't think we're the best people to judge."

Dean scowled, and moved to sit by the window just as Hella entered. Her hair, now it was clean, was the brownish-black Sam had expected, but was feathery and wavy, not straight. She wore a white cotton blouse and black shorts with black tights and boots. Dean rolled his eyes, and Sam knew exactly what he was thinking. Had they been reduced to babysitting some pagan hipster?

"Who's judging what now?" She smiled, completely failing to convince them that she hadn't been listening in to the conversation. Bobby sighed and sat back in his chair.

"Since you're here, we may as well start on getting everyone on the same page. First and foremost, who was after you?"

"What makes you think there's someone after me?"

Hella really needed to work on her innocent face, thought Sam. Bobby levelled her a look that said as much, and she sighed.

"Okay, fine. Someone is after me. At a guess, I'd say it's probably the Valkyries trying to get me back into Hellheim."

"Probably?" Said Dean.

"Valkyries?" said Sam. Hella rolled her eyes.

"I'm not technically supposed to leave Hellheim. So, it's more likely than not that whatever's after me is a servant of the Norse gods, and they'd most likely send Valkyries."

"How do you not know what's chasing you?" Dean had his frustrated tone of voice, the one he'd picked up from their father. The one that said _"I know you're new at this, but use a bit of goddamn common sense"_. Sam wasn't fond of that tone.

"Well I'm sorry." Hella snapped. "I was a bit too busy trying to escape with my life to stop and exchange insurance details."

"Alright then." Sam stepped in, realising that the two might start arguing. "So Valkyries are a possibility. You don't sound too certain, though."

"Well… I don't know, it might be demons."

"Of course." Dean threw his hands up in the air. "Because, hey, when isn't it?"

"It's not my fault!" Hella snapped at him, and Sam stood between them again. "They might have found out what I'm trying to do, or maybe they just want me as collateral, I don't know, but it's not my fault if they make everything their business!"

"Okay!" Sam thought his brother could have been less antagonistic, but knew that mentioning it would only cause more problems. "Look, if it is demons, we're pretty safe here. Is there anything we can do to protect us from Valkyries?"

"You don't need to; they can't enter a civilian household." Hella shrugged. "They have a lot of rules about where they can and can't go."

Everyone seemed quite relieved by that. Bobby leant forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk.

"So now that's sorted, what exactly is it you want us to do?"

"You guys have transport, and contacts, and a sort of… reputation. I just want you to help me gather the things I need to bring Lok… uh…" She looked incredibly uncomfortable for a moment, before clearing her throat and continuing, "Dad… back."

"So what, we're your body guards?"

"No, I can help, I can pull my own weight. I just… I've… never left Hellheim on my own before now. I'm kind of an easy target."

"So, yes." Dean smiled sarcastically. "You do want us as your bodyguards."

"Fine." She conceded. "But I'm not useless, so you can think of it more as a partnership than a… I don't know, "servitude" or whatever."

"Speaking of defending yourself…" Bobby was still watching her closely. "Where do you fall on the demi-god-angel scale? You got any of your daddy's powers, or are you something shiny and new?"

Hella bit her lip, looking like she'd been put on the spot. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and shrugged.

"A little. I guess. I can make stuff appear, but nothing big or… you know, fancy. I can appear, disappear… I have all the basic angel powers, in theory, but I've never had much occasion to use them."

"Why not?" Sam was watching her closely.

"Hellheim. I'm not allowed to leave, not allowed to do much of anything except take care of the drifting souls."

Sam realised how sad she seemed. It wasn't the outwardly angst-filled sadness that he was used to seeing with Dean. It was something… innate. Something she seemed to have carried with her for so long that she probably didn't realise it was there.

"When was the last time you saw Gabriel?"

She thought for a moment. "When were they airing "I Love Lucy"?"

No one had been expecting that answer. Bobby rested his chin on his steepled fingers, staring at her.

"I don't know; back in the50s?"

"He stayed for a year or two back then. That was probably the last time we saw each other face to face."

Dean's brow furrowed. He exchanged a glance with Sam. Hella seemed surprisingly nonchalant about not having seen her father for over fifty years. Maybe she didn't even realise it wasn't normal?

"We'll do it." Sam's definite answer seemed to surprise Bobby and Dean. Hella smiled at him, and he realised that she looked a lot more like Gabriel when she did. This wasn't some cocky, shit-eating grin though. This was a warm, deeply grateful smile. Dean was less impressed.

"Sam. A word."

He practically dragged is brother into the kitchen.

"Are you kidding? We don't know anything about her, about what's going on right now, and you think we should go run errands with her, for a ritual that might or might not even work?"

"It's not like we've got a whole lot of options, Dean. You want Cas back?" He didn't wait for Dean's denial. "This is the only plan we've got. Besides, are you honestly going to tell me you're not going to give her a chance to reunite with her dad?"

Dean scowled.

"I'm glad you're all soul-full and whole again. Really, I am. But that's a low blow, even for a giant girl like you."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They let themselves smile, on the verge of having a moment, before Dean pushed the kitchen doors back open.

"Ok, fine. But you do what we say, when we say, and I pick the music."

Hella practically jumped for joy. Sam grinned, but his happiness was cut short as he realised something.

"Oh, man… the Impala…"

Dean seemed physically wounded, flinching as Sam mentioned it.

"We'll have to wait 'til we roll out; we don't have a car."

"Oh no, wait!" Hella's excitement was quickly reignited. "This can be job number one! Black, right? '67 impala?"

"Yeah." Dean sighed. "Why?"

She said nothing, but closes her eyes and clicked her fingers, promptly disappearing. The hunters looked at each other, confused. Bobby sighed, finished his beer and stood.

"I suppose I should plug the phones back in. Sam, it's your turn to cook dinner."

"Bobby?" Sam grinned, seeing the old hunter stir his stumps like a bear waking up after hibernation.

"Looks like we're back in business, boys."

Sam cooked for four people, but Hella hadn't returned by the time he'd finished. They researched Valkyries, and came up with some ideas on how to kill them, or keep them at a distance. Hella still hadn't returned. They ventured out into the scrap-yard, and started warding it with every sigil they knew. It was dark by the time Hella clicked back onto the porch of the house. Behind her, with a more pronounced thud, the Impala landed. Dean ran to it, and instantly popped the hood.

"The hell?" He glared at her. "My baby's all messed up..."

"I had to drag it out of a ditch to get it here; a little gratitude would be nice." She sat down on the step of the porch, her breath ragged. Sam patted her shoulder, realising she had effectively carried the car from wherever it had ended up, even if she'd done it quickly.

"He's just protective. Dean, you can fix her, right?"

"Of course I can." Dean snapped, examining the engine. "I'd just rather have it that I didn't have to."

"See, he'll be fine." Sam nudged Hella. "You want some food?"

She nodded, and gratefully accepted his help into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean and Bobby worked through most of the night, fixing and rebuilding the Impala. Sam and Hella had been put on research duty, which naturally meant they didn't research squat, and decided to sit outside on the porch watching them.

Sam imagined it was probably like being in one of those intense scenes in hospital dramas, where some patient has some intensely serious disease that no one's ever heard of, and requires one specific surgeon to fix it, even though that surgeon is going through twenty odd crises and this is his last chance to rebuild his shattered reputation and all the family and most of the other staff of the hospital gather in the observation room, all accompanied by music from The Fray.

Then Sam remembered that he had at one point been in one of those intense scenes in a hospital drama, except he'd been press ganged into it by the archangel father of the demi-goddess he was now sat next to.

"So, we should probably be mapping out a travel plan." He sat down on the step next to her, which meant he was still a foot and a half taller than her, even folded and hunched like he was. "What do you need for this ritual and where can we get it?"

"Stuff." She sighed. "From a place. You want some cocoa?"

"Um… ok?"

She stared hard into the middle distance for a moment, closed her eyes, and clicked her fingers. Two mugs of cocoa appeared on the step in front of them, one blue and one pink. Hella took the blue one. Sam glared at her.

"Gee, thanks."

"Shut up, it's good cocoa."

He took the mug, sighing, and had to admit that it was good cocoa. He had expected something sugary sweet and processed, but it was thick and creamy, with the bittersweet sort of taste you get from really dark chocolate. It had notes of other flavours, too, like cinnamon and orange; it made Sam wish he had a more refined palate, since this was clearly the drink of a connoisseur.

" It's not as good as the stuff Dad used to make, though." Hella was smiling at him, a smile that was as bittersweet as the cocoa. "He always made it with this one thing; like a secret ingredient or something. He'd never tell me what it was. He used to say that he'd make sure I always had some reason to want him back, even if it was just for the cocoa."

She bit her lip, and Sam really didn't want her to start crying. Give him monsters, vampires, ghosts, ghouls… hell, give him goddamn Lucifer and an army of demons; he could deal with all of them better than he could with a crying girl. He may have gained a reputation as the bleeding heart of the family, but in reality, the idea of Hella bursting into tears made him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Um… hey, come on. Let's… let's make this plan, right?" He took a pen and notepad out of his pocket. "What do we need for this ritual?"

She sniffed, and took another sip from the cocoa, seemingly glad for the distraction.

"Um… ok, we need… something from each of my siblings, to represent their… agreeing to it, or love of him or something. Fen was in North Dakota, last I checked, at a trailer park not far from the Canadian border. Jör… I don't know, hitch up anywhere on the Atlantic coast, I can probably call him. Narfi's already dead, so I don't think we need anything from him. And I doubt we need anything from Sleipnir, which I am fine with."

"Why?"

"The ritual actually calls for "those born from the seed of the father". Sleipnir wasn't exactly… "traditional" in his conception." She smirked, and Sam made a mental note to read up on as much of Loki's mythology as possible. Hella took another sip from her cocoa.

"Vali's in prison in Pennysylvania. Not looking forward to seeing him, either, but… we have to."

"So… hang on. We've got one in North Dakota. Fen?"

"Fenrir."

"And one in Pennysylvania. Vali?"

"Yes."

"And one on the East coast?"

"Jörmungandr." She drank from her cocoa. "That's all the siblings. We also need some herbs and crystals, which we can probably get from any witchcraft shop, holy oil, which I presume you still have, and… some of his… remains." She shifted her weight awkwardly, and Sam sent another silent prayer that she wouldn't start crying.

"Anything else?"

"We need to perform the ritual somewhere big enough to contain the might of an archangel. Like a warehouse or something."

"There's one a few miles south of here."

"We have our travel plan."

"Cool. So… What's with the other one you mentioned? Sleepy?"

"Sleipnir. And I don't think Dad would appreciate me telling that story." She grinned, wickedly, before draining her mug and setting it down on the step, where it slowly faded out of existence. "If you want to know, I suggest you look it up. I'm going to bed."

She left Sam sitting on the porch, staring into his cocoa. After a while, he stood, and looked over to where Bobby and Dean were still fixing the car.

"Hey Bobby! Have you got any books on Loki?"

In the end, Sam had not researched much into the Loki myth, and really wished he had. They drove for six hours to find the vaguely remembered trailer park Hella had mentioned, stopping several times to ask for directions. He was thankful they arrived at all, as he had thought Dean might crash on purpose, just to shut Hella up. She was not a good passenger.

In her defence, Sam guessed she hadn't been in many cars, as she was permanently on edge, and very nearly travel sick, complaining or commenting on every song on the radio, since she'd never heard any of them before. Dean had shot Sam several choice looks, gripping the steering wheel much tighter than he probably should have been. Sam had tried to sedate her by answering her questions, or reassuring her that they were well within the speed-limit, but she was not that easily subdued. When they pulled over at the third convenience store to ask whether or not they were near a trailer park, Dean reached breaking point, and bought a map and a box of travel-sickness tablets (the drowsy kind), refusing to let Hella back in the car until she'd swallowed two of them.

They made it to the trailer park a lot more easily after that.

When they arrived, it was six thirty in the evening, and Sam had bitched again that they probably should have left earlier. They booked themselves into a nearby motel and let Hella sleep off the tablets, deciding that they never wanted to find out what would happen if they gave her coffee, and threw themselves wearily onto the motel's long abused couch, agreeing that tomorrow they would try and track down this brother of Hella's. Then, for a laugh, they crack a couple of beers and microwave some burritos, before opening Sam's laptop and seeing just what Hella meant when she was talking about Sleipnir.

"Wow. I mean, wow." Dean still hasn't gotten over it by the next morning, as they go for breakfast at a nearby diner. "All that time we thought he was just a regular douche, and he had a secret like that."

Hella rolled her eyes as she poured great big spoonfuls of syrup all over her pancakes and bacon, and Sam exchanges smirks with Dean.  
>"So much for the great bachelor. He's a dad and a mom."<p>

"Hey, in his defence, he only did it in the first place to save Asgard." Hella was barely hiding her own smirk. "It's not his fault if he fell in love. Besides, at least you've not seen the result. Sleip is not a pretty creature, and he's kind of… scary." She grimaced, before shovelling a forkful of bacon and pancake into her mouth.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to reign in their hilarity at mocking Gabriel's surprisingly chequered past.

"So. We need to talk to this brother of yours… Fenrir?"

"Yup."

"Huh. Are they all your brothers?"

"Yup."

Dean chuckled.

"Only girl in a family full of guys with an absentee Dad. Man, if you'd come to find us ten years ago…"

"She still wouldn't have been legal?" Sam finished, punching Dean in the arm.

Hella had stopped eating. She glared at him.

"He wasn't "absentee"." It was stated with so much force, that Sam realised they had started to forget she was a pagan goddess and half frost giant. Sam and Dean decided to say nothing, and they ate breakfast in silence. They both mentally created a list of "things you can't tease Hella about" and added "deadbeat dads" to the top of that list.

They arrived at the trailer park twenty minutes later, and Hella asked at the gate for a Martha Kane, who she claimed was her aunt.

The guy in control of the gate gave Sam and Dean odd looks, and they realised that the common misconception that they were a couple was probably given a horrible new angle if they were walking around with a fifteen year old girl.

"We're social workers." Dean suggested, clearly thinking the same as Sam. "Family rehabilitation, it's all very sad."

The guy at the gate either bought it, or wasn't paid enough to care, since he let them through and directed them to the trailer at the very back of the park, where the fence looked out on a thick forest. The trailers were all cheap but well cared for, and the one they came to a stop in front of was no different. There was a woman sat outside the trailer, sunning herself in a faded, floral patterned deck chair, which was bulging under her sizable girth. She had skin that was probably a rich, deep tan many years ago, but was now a sort of coffee-stained brown. Her black hair lay thin and flat against her head, tied in a thick braid.

"Mrs Kane?"

She looked up, her muumuu shifting as she realised she had company.

"Yes?"

"We're here to see Fen."

She blinked at them for a moment, before pushing herself slowly to her feet. She was about as tall as Dean, and built like a steamroller. Hella seemed unnaturally confident, given how easily this lady could squish her like a bug (and how much she looked like she might want to).

"Could you say that again? My hearing isn't so good these days."

"We want to see Fenrir, Mrs. Kane."

Mrs Kane lumbered towards them, staring each of them in the eye. Sam found himself very unnerved by her. Hella, somehow, was not.

"It's been a long time since anyone called my Frances that. Who are you?"

"I'm his sister. Let him come talk to me, he'll know who I am."

After a long, silent glare, Mrs Kane turned and walked around to the back of her trailer. After a while she walked back, and leant against the side of it. She was followed by the biggest damn dog Sam had ever seen.

He instantly corrected himself.

"That is the biggest damn wolf I have ever seen."

Hella, on seeing the wolf that was the size of a great dane, if not bigger, dropped to her knees and held out her arms. The wolf barked, snarled, and ran towards her. Sam grabbed her shoulders, about to drag her away from the slavering mass of teeth and fur that was clearly about to maul her to death, when she shrugged him off.

The wolf jumped at her, resting his front paws on her shoulders and licking her face. She scratched vigorously at the fur on his sides, petting him as if he was a terrier.

"Fen! It's good to see you; you look amazing!"

Dean, who had gone pale and frozen at the sight of the wolf, dragged himself back to the land of the living.

"Fen? That's Fenrir? That's your brother?"

"Yeah." She looked up at him. "It's not my fault if you didn't do your research."

Fenrir seemed to agree with her, as he approached Sam and Dean and began sniffing at them. Hella grinned.

"This is Sam and Dean Winchester, Fen. They're going to help me... That's why I came to see you. I need help."

Fenrir sniffed at them, turned to Hella and barked twice. She looked mildly affronted, and said something in Norwegian. Fenrir trotted past her, and looked up at Mrs Kane, his head cocked to the side. She rolled her eyes and smiled, before patting him on the head and moving to the door of the trailer.

"I don't suppose you nice young men would like to come in and have some iced tea? These two have a lot of catching up to do."


	4. Chapter 4

"Fen never really knew his Daddy."

"Is that right?" Dean attempted a polite smile as he and Sam were shown into the small and crowded trailer. Sure, they were hardly slim to begin with, but they felt ridiculously out of place in this old woman's trailer, which could barely fit them both and had not been redecorated since the late 60s. He exchanged a glance with Sam, noticing the fake Native American artwork, and the glitter-glued statues of cherubim fairies. Not that they could comment, he supposed, given some of the places they'd stayed over the years. Mrs Kane went to the kitchenette, leaving the Winchesters to fold themselves onto the sagging couches.

"He was only very little when the three of them got cast out. Poor boy." She sighed, fetching a pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. "He was just misunderstood. And those Gods…" She tutted. "I don't approve of what they done."

"The fettering?" Sam was glad they had done a little research, now that the panic over being mauled by a giant wolf was out of the way. "Wasn't he supposed to be bound somewhere and left there?"

"It's what they say, in the myths." Mrs Kane nodded, carrying the pitcher in one hand and three glasses in the other, depositing them on the low coffee table and sinking into a barker lounger that had not only seen better days, but forgotten them.

"The myths aren't true, then?" Dean shot another polite smile, before pouring himself some iced tea.

"Not all of them." Mrs Kane had a dark, oddly terrifying smile. "He was bound and fettered, so he says, but them Gods moved him all over, hoping he'd never meet up with his siblings, praying he'd never meet up with his Daddy."

"How do you know? Can he…" Sam felt stupid for saying it. "Can he speak?"

"Not any language you'd know. But if you're willing to listen, he'll speak to you." She poured herself some iced tea. Dean wished he hadn't given himself such a big glass; it was like drinking powdered sugar.

"So that's Hel. She's pretty as I imagined." Martha smiled, tapping her fingernails against the glass. "You know what she wants with Fen?"

"She's trying to work up a ritual." Sam said, deciding against the iced tea, based on his brother's slight wincing. "I'm not sure how much we can tell you…"

"Damn Valkyries on her tail?" Martha tutted, resting her glass on the table. "Fen's been with me now since I was just a little girl. He's told me just about everything he knows about where he came from, so I tell you this. Whatever that girl's doing, don't let them Valkyries get her. They take her back, they hurt her. Not physical, mind, they never hurt the bodies. But she be treated like shit if they drag her back, you understand?"

She glared at both Sam and Dean, her eyes dark, her old face stern.

"Something been wrong in Asgard for millenniums. That girl and her brothers deserve a break, and if likes of us have to help them catch it, then so be it."

Sam nodded, not really sure of what else to do. It was at that point that Hella stuck her head around the trailer door, grinning broadly.

"Guys! Guys! I'm an auntie!"

(-*-)

The Irish wolfhound was, apparently, named Beans. She was pedigree, or so the owner claimed. Sam did wonder how a guy living in a trailer that had the trucker mud-flap girl painted up the side could afford a pedigree dog, but Hella had told him to be nice, because she was the love of Fenrir's life.

As he saw the dogs curled around each other, a litter of four shaggy, grey-haired puppies running around their feet, Sam believed it. He also became distantly aware of how weird his life had gotten, and for a Winchester, that was saying something.

Dean grinned, picking up one of the puppies.

"They are kind of cute."

"Kind of? They're adorable!" Hella was cooing over all six canines, looking ecstatic. She froze, staring up at the brothers with a grin of wicked realisation. "Oh my God! Dad's a Granddad! I can't wait to tell him!"

That made Sam laugh. The idea of Gabriel, who's suicide note had been in the form of a porn DVD, receiving the news that he was a granddad to a litter of four mutt puppies was oddly hysterical. After a while of cooing and cuddling, Hella stood up, shaking Mrs. Kane's hand.

"We should probably get going. Thank you for your hospitality."

"Pleasure was mine, dear. You stop by any time, now. It's the happiest I've seen my Fen in a long time."

Fenrir trotted up to them, nuzzling Hella's knee. She petted him, and whispered something to him in Norwegian. The wolf seemed to nod, before turning to the Winchesters and extending a paw. Blinking, Sam and Dean both shook with the wolf, Sam happy to know that his brother had the same questions regarding the sudden weirdness of their lives that he did.

Hella clipped some hair from Fenrir's back, and placed it in a Ziploc bag. After a long goodbye, they made their way back to the motel. Hella slept soundly, and Dean informed Sam that he didn't like iced tea.

Sam thought they should get a dog.

(-*-)

The drive to the Rockview correctional institute in Pennsylvania was long and for the most part uneventful. Hella was still cooing over her newly discovered nieces and nephews, and Dean was still laughing over the idea of how the ex-trickster would react to the news. Sam was quietly, mentally noting down what he knew so far about Hella and her family, trying to build up a concise picture. It wasn't much, for now, but he had a feeling the further they went, and the more they spoke with each other, the more they'd learn.

That was when it hit.

The road, it should be mentioned, was a long, flat road, which was pretty much empty and pretty much straight. Clear driving.

Or, it would have been, if the gold and white muscle car hadn't literally shot out of nowhere and screeched to a halt in front of them. Dean, while slamming on the brakes, realised it was a nineteen-sixty eight mustang.

Sam, once his head had stopped spinning, realised that the woman who got out of the car was impossibly hot.

Hella, once she'd scraped her hair out of her eyes and seen the woman, realised they were in a shitload of trouble.

"Get out of the car." She spoke clearly, her eyes fixed on the woman. The woman was doing nothing. She had gotten out of the car, but was now just stood there, beside it, staring at them.

"What? We can just…"

"Get out of the car." Hella's voice resonated with something much deeper, a sort of richness which reminded Sam of the various angels they'd argued with. Judging by Dean's pained wince, it reminded him of one particular angel. They got out of the car.

"Hel." The woman spoke. She had auburn hair, which hung and curled down to her waist. Her skin was tanned, in the way pale skin will tan and freckle. She wore a gold dress, under a long white cape, and was glaring at them with piercing blue eyes. She scared the shit out of Sam.

"Du må komme med meg nå. Åsgard er…"

"Valkyrie." Hella had stood perfectly still, drawn up to her full height, her hands clenched in fists at her sides. "Speak in English, that my companions may understand you."

The Valkyrie faltered for a moment, before resuming her fearsome appearance. They only stood a few feet away from each other, but it seemed as if they were miles apart, calling to each other across a battlefield.

"You must come with me now. Asgard is free from the wars that racked us so. We have to choose Odin's successor…"

"Which you won't need me for."

Sam had, over the past couple of days, noted quite a few similarities between Hella and her father. She seemed more like him now, though, than ever. She stares at the Valkyrie, her manner somewhere between casual and commanding, between a humorous smirk and a stern glare. All the while, a plan was forming, and you could see in her eyes how the wheels turned. She was very much like her father.

"All the members of Asgard must be present…"

"I am not a member of Asgard. I was cast out. State your true purpose, Valkyrie."

The Valkyrie paused, examining them. Angels, at least, had the bird-like head-tilt when they were watching you squirm. Valkyries, it seemed, made Angels look like goddamned poets when it came to expression and empathy.

"This ritual you hope to cast. It cannot be allowed. Loki cannot be resurrected."

"Why not? Because it will inconvenience the big wigs?" She smirked again. "That's just another reason to do it."

Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged. To say they were something out of their depth was an understatement. Normally, they'd chip in and be intimidating, or interrogating, or wise-cracking or something. But Hella was giving off a vibe that said "interrupt on pain of death".

"You will place yourself in danger. For your own safety, we must return you now to Hellheim."

"No. I'm not going back with you."

Sam's eyes darted nervously as he picked up on the fearful tremble in her voice. She stayed strong though.

"The Valkyries are not the only party determined to find you, Hel. For your own safety…"

"No. I refuse."

"You will not return to Hellheim?"

"No."  
>The Valkyrie stared at her.<p>

Hella stared back. Sam, without realising he was doing it, rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Let us pass."

"I will have to inform my superiors."

"You do that. Just let us go."

The Valkyrie nodded, got back into her car, and drove off. Hella practically staggered into Sam, reeling from the relief of the tense atmosphere.

"Seriously?" Dean attempted to laugh as he got back into the car. "I was expecting something a little more wrathful. Aren't they supposed to be… I dunno, warrior princesses or something?"

"You humans…" She rolled her eyes, lying down across the back seat. "You only ever see with your eyes." She sounded like she'd just gone five rounds with a mad rhino, but she said nothing more, letting her arm rest so her eyes were covered with the crook of her elbow.

Sam and Dean shrugged to each other. After a while, they carried on driving.

After another while, they had to stop so Hella could be sick by the side of the road. Once she had finished, she created a bottle of water for herself, and groaned. They decided not to drive for a while, until Hella had gotten herself together.

"There was a fight going on, back there. A sort of… battle of wills, I guess." She coughed, and spat onto the ground before sipping at her water again. "Invisible to the human eye. That's what Valkyries do."

"Wow."

"I fucking hate Valkyries."

Sam blinked.

"I'm not sure you should be swearing."

She looked up at him, her grey-green eyes shining with that golden malice that kept reminding him of Gabriel.

"I'm not sure you should be telling me how to speak. Come on, let's get going."

She swung her feet around so she was properly in the car again, and closed the door. Sam glanced at Dean, who was grinning insufferably.

"Owned."

They got back into the car, and drove the short distance to the Rockview correctional institute. By the time they arrived, Hella was cool, controlled and charming once more, and Sam felt he had gotten to know her a little better. Whether that was a good thing or not had yet to be seen.


	5. Chapter 5

"Vali is… different." Hella supplied, as they walked into the visitor's area of the prison. They were the only ones there, staring at the grey walls, waiting for the guards to return with the demi-god. She didn't say anything else, but sat on one of the red plastic chairs, her eyes closed. The way she fidgeted and drummed her fingers suggested unease. Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, in the recognised and time honoured hollow smile of _"Seriously, is this our life now?"_

Dean returned the smile.

"How you holding up? You know…" Dean cleared his throat. "After your, uh… `soul-searching`?"

"I'm… I'm doing good." It was an outright lie, and both of them knew it, but that was how they dealt with their emotions; they sorted, understood, catalogued, and then tried to ram it all down the garbage disposal.

"You seem a little tense, lately."

"Yeah… I guess I'm just…" Sam sniffed. Just what? He had no idea how to explain it. "It's like… I don't know, I'm feeling everything in overtime. I'm taking in way more of the world around me, really detailed stuff, you know?"

Dean nodded, staring at Sam. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"And do you remember it?"

Sam didn't need to ask what Dean meant. The wounded, vulnerable, terrified look that lurked behind his eyes meant Sam knew exactly what he meant.

Hell.

"Sometimes… I think that's how my brain is coping, you know? Constantly staying active, so I don't have much of a chance to remember too much at once."

Dean nodded, and stared at the floor. For a moment, he looked like he was about to speak, when the door swung open, and two guards marched through holding a young man. He couldn't have been more than nineteen, his head shaved just fine enough to make out black stubble, his skin almost ivory white, scared and stretched over gangly, angular features. His hands were cuffed, and he glared out from under hooded eyes. He was, in short, the best possible candidate for a piss-terrifying stereotypical serial killer.

"Hel." His voice was hoarse, scratchy and twisted. "This is a surprise. I thought I was black listed in the family manor."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Vali's accent was placeless, not American, but not tied to any one country. It seemed to shift all over Europe and parts of America, which set Dean on edge.

"I'm not here to represent the Gods, Val. I'm here… independently, if you like."

"Why?" He hissed. Honest to god, hissed. Sam wasn't ever sure how you could hiss a word without "s" in it.

"It's… about our father."

Vali scoffed.

"I know you and he haven't… seen eye to eye, in the past, but I need your help."

"Ugh." For the first time, Vali seemed to smile. It was a snide, sarcastic sneer, which let his eyes remain hooded, but contorted his angular face into something more predatory.

"What?"

"You. Should have been counting the days before you tried to bring him back. You always were such a snivelling little grub. Daddy's little girl."

"He can help. The world's in big trouble, Val, and I need just a lock of hair from you, or a fingernail or something, to help bring him back."

"Why should I?"

Vali sat back in his chair, glaring at his sister.

"Give me one reason. Bear in mind, you're talking to the odd one out, the runt of the litter. You're talking to the one who was offered a place with the other gods, the real ones; the one who sold out his own family to Odin and never looked back. And never even got a place in the myths for it. How about that?"

Hel looked like she was on the brink of giving up. Sam and Dean exchanged glances, wondering if they should step in.

"I've never asked you for anything."

"You've never spoken to me. You've never acknowledged my presence. You are the only member of our family who is not outwardly aggressive to me. Why the fuck should I help you? I don't give a shit if our father lives or dies, the whole lot of you mean nothing to me."  
>"It's not his fault Odin screwed you over!"<p>

Hel leapt to her feet, tears in her eyes. She was a good foot or so smaller than him, and he towered over her as he stood. Somehow, even with his hands cuffed, he managed to leap the table and go for Hel's throat. Sam, reacting with a hunter's instinct, slammed the younger man against the wall, glancing over to see Dean pick Hella up off the floor. She was trembling.

Vali swung his hands at Sam, clawing and scowling. With a surprising amount of strength, he managed to throw Sam off, and lunge back for another attack while Sam was off balance. His eyes were alive, shining with pure, unadulterated hatred. He snapped his teeth at Sam, almost as if he was possessed. He tore at Sam's skin and hair, and Sam, to his credit, tore right back.

The guards finally managed to drag him off of Sam and tazed him. He went into spasms as the electric charge ran through him, and he was dragged from the room. Hella was leaning heavily against one of the walls, her face in her hands. She was muttering in Norwegian.

Sam, regaining his breath, took the hand Dean offered to help him up.

"Hey." He said, picking at one of the tears in his t-shirt. "He must have had a hang-nail."

"Fingernails." Dean grimaced. "Great. Is that enough for the ritual?"

Hella opened her eyes, reluctantly, and nodded at Sam. She took the Ziploc bag from her pocket and held it out to Sam. Vali's nail was added to Fen's hair. After a while, she stood up.

"Worse than the fucking Valkyries."  
>(-*-)<p>

"So what was with him?" Dean asked, as they climbed back into the car.

"Vali never got on with Dad. They just didn't, you know?"

Sam nodded.

"The gods never liked us. They thought we were abominations, because we were half-breeds. So they used Vali to get to Dad. Promised him things… he believed them."

"And they sold him out?" Dean Tutted. The "duh" was implied.

"They put the spirit of a wolf in him. He went psycho and tried to kill Dad. Dad got away, and Vali was cast onto Earth for his troubles."

"Right…" Sam glanced at Hella in the rear view mirror. "You're not filling me with confidence here, Hel."

"Well…" She tried a smile. "Now talking to Jög will seem relatively easy."

"God." Dean slammed the Impala into drive, and pulled away from the prison, all too glad to start heading towards the east coast. "Fucking deities, man."

Hella laughed for a moment, then leant forward and flicked Sam in the ear.

"See, you don't tell him off for swearing. And I'm at least fourteen centuries older than him."

(-*-)

It was ten o'clock before they came near enough to society to start looking for motels. Sam was dosing in the passenger seat. Dean glanced at Hella, who was staring out of the window as the nearby streetlights flashed over them.

"So I have to ask."

Hella snapped out of her thoughts, and looked at him.

"You've never been out of Hellheim before; how come you know the lyrics to "Hey, Jude"?"

"I've never been out of Hellheim on my own. I spent a lot of the sixties and seventies going on weekend trips around Europe."

"Oh… cool. Best time to do it, probably." He shot her a grin, and she smiled back, a sense of nostalgia in her eyes.

"Boldr was happy to help me through the stuff I was dealing with. You know, Dad not coming back. He took me on trips and things to take my mind off it."

"Really?" Dean paused, as he spotted a motel and spun into the parking lot. "Did you look like you do now?"

"Pretty much. Demi-gods age really slowly." She smiled, her eyes blank with innocence. Dean diplomatically decided to say nothing, but mentally relished the kind of fit Gabriel was going to have if he was half the Dad Hella seemed to think he was. A grandfather, and fresh in the knowledge that Boldr had been taking his daughter to hippy parties in his absence.

Dean wouldn't say he was a petty man, as such, but the madness Gabriel would come back to did make up a little for the whole "you killed me over and over again" thing. He grinned to himself, and decided to get them a room or two, his commitment rekindled.


	6. Chapter 6

Music played from somewhere very far away.

It was sluggish, and distorted, and reminded Sam of the time he had been left at Bobby's house as a kid, and Dean had let him mess about with the record player. He'd found it endlessly entertaining to switch the RPM speeds.

It warped and whispered, and was vaguely familiar. Every time Sam thought he knew what it might be, it changed.

The music faded away, or rewound, or warped… the endless white sky he looked at buckled and burned, like a film of white sand hitting a celluloid jam. It gave way to impenetrable black fog, filling Sam's eyes and ears, blocking his senses out, one by one. He reeled, biting his lip so hard he could almost feel the flesh tearing. He couldn't scream. If he screamed, he'd let Them in.

Figures that were simultaneously ultimately bright and completely dark.

Figures that were not just big, but more vast than any scope his mind could handle. Sam shut his eyes, shielding them from that which they were never meant to see. His body was heavy, and at the same time, lighter than air. Everything was free of place and dimension. All he knew was burning pain, searing and cutting, twisting and scraping, his skin trying to crawl into his body, his insides twisting and writhing like trapped snakes.

Sam.

He felt like the very centre of his being was being crushed and torn, images of everyone he had ever known, every smile he'd ever seen, every scowl he'd ever known, all drifting, leaping in front of his vision, reaching out to him, begging him to hold on just a little longer, begging him not to give in as they were dragged painfully from him… or was he being dragged from them…

The pain began afresh, peeling, clawing, pounding, stabbing, stretching, twisting, tearing, howling.

Sam.

He choked, he whimpered, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body tensed. It was not an act of defiance. It was an act of pleading. _Not again. It hurts. I can't go through it again. It hurts. It hurts too bad. Please, don't. It hurts._

It was more than violation, because he knew from their noise…

Sam.

_It hurts._

They didn't howl, or roar, or even shout. They made noise beyond anything he had ever heard, their voices making his brain boil and his heart rip itself out. _It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. _He knew from their noise that they weren't enjoying it either. It was more than violation; it was not a means to an end. It was just an action, for action's sake, for reasons that he couldn't gather the strength to understand.

Sam! _It hurts._ Wake up, Sam.

Wake _It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. _up.

Wake

"Up, Sammy, you're scaring the shit outta me." Dean's face loomed over him in the half light of dawn. They say you only dream for the five seconds before you wake up. Sam highly doubted that.

He gasped and choked, gripping the edges of the motel bed.

"It's ok, Sam. Sammy… Sammy, look at me. You're safe." Dean laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, staring him in the eye. Sam, after a moment of catching his breath, managed to nod. He remembered. The motel was there. It was real. He was on Earth, with Dean, he had his soul. They were helping Hella.

He pressed his hands into his eyes. Dean poured him a glass of water from the tap.

"Nightmares?" He said, redundantly. Sam had no idea how his nightmare had made him sleep, but all his muscles ached now and there was a cut on his hand. He had lockjaw, too.

"Yeah… guess I better get used to that."

"Were they…" Dean handed him the glass, looking awkward. "Do you remember?"

Sam nodded, drinking gratefully, and trying to unclench his jaw.

"Did you have nightmares? After you came back?"

Dean nodded for a moment, suddenly looking very weary.

"It's Hell, Sam. Not the sort of place you're supposed to have fond memories of."

Sam drank his water, and settled back in the bed, glad of the comfort, but knowing there was no way he was going back to sleep now.

"What time is it?"

"A little after four. You thinking about getting up?"

"I sure as…" He stopped. Dean couldn't blaspheme. Sam wasn't sure he could name the Pit right now, either. Funny how strong words are. He half smirked at Dean. If nothing else, the last few years had given them a real appreciation for dark humour.

"I'm gonna head down the street to that all night gas station." Sam pushed the covers aside and stood up. "See if I can't find something to microwave for breakfast."

"You ok to go on your own?" Dean was already half asleep. Sam smiled.

"Don't worry about it."

He threw on a hoodie and a pair of sneakers, and walked out into the oddly muted predawn. He could almost believe there was no one alive but him. That this sunrise was just for him. That somewhere, out there, someone was giving him this moment, just to remind him that he had the whole earth at his disposal once more. It was… good.

(-*-)

It was close to ten when they pulled up on the sea front, staring out over the slate-grey waves. There was a man painting a boat nearby, listening to the radio. It danced with a static-ridden track of "My Baby Just Cares for Me". They had followed the roads based On Hella's whim and intuition. They still weren't sure how they were going to find the final brother as, if there research had told them right, Jörmungandr, who Hella had informed them preferred to be called Jög or Jör, was a giant sea serpent. But then, Sam had retroactively looked up Vali, and he had been described as a wolf, so maybe it wasn't as simple as that.

"So… Hella." He decided he may as well ask. "We're looking for… what, a sea snake?"

"Maybe." She reached into her pocket, and took out a bar of dark chocolate. He kept almost forgetting she could do that. She didn't turn her gaze away from the sea.

"Whaddaya mean, `maybe`?" Dean leant against the Impala, looking out over the rapidly darkening sky. Hella shrugged.

"He's described as a Sea serpent in the myths, but he's not… he's kind of…" she paused, mid-nibble, to consider her words. "He has the mannerisms and abilities that would remind someone of a serpent. But he's not always in that form."

"Mannerisms of a snake, huh?" Dean grimaced. Sam didn't know what Dean was looking so sour for; he was the one who'd had to deal with the last unpleasant brother. Hella looked at him, first confused, then incredulous.

"You guys are so Bible-centric, you know that? One serpent in the garden of Eden, and the rest are given a bad name for all eternity. Sea Serpents are more like dragons, anyway."

"Ah, crap." Dean growled. Sam was inclined to agree. Dragons were trouble. Hella rolled her eyes.

"You don't listen, do you? I said "like" dragons. They're usually pretty laid back guys, if you don't stop them from getting into the water."

"Oh, you've met one?" Dean intended it to be sarcasm, but Hella nodded.

"Nessie. He was very polite, and made the best fish and chips I have ever tasted."

That shut Dean up, for a while.

"So Sea serpents are… kind of like the old myths about mermaids? Human on land, but they change in water?"  
>"Pretty much." Hella shrugged.<p>

"Did I hear you talking about Sea Serpents?" The boat painting man looked up, curious. Hella nodded. He pointed his paintbrush further down the dock.

"You go that way, there's a library of sorts. It's just built for tourists like you."

"Do a lot of people come here, talking about Sea Serpents?"

"A few." The man shrugged, and grinned. "Enough to keep that place open. It's one of our claims to fame, I suppose." The man went back to painting his boat. Figuring it was better than nothing, they wandered down the dock, until they came to a little stone cabin. Over the door hung a sign, with the words "Cape Ann, MA, home to America's first Sea Serpent".

_Well._ Thought Sam. _No shit_. He resolved to put more trust in Hella's instinct in future.

They entered the cabin, and saw it was full of supposed "evidence" of the sea serpent, and overpriced copies of documents, books and photos. It was, in short, a tourist trap.

Hella's curiosity was instantly peaked, and she wandered off behind the rows of shelves. Sam and Dean examined another couple of displays, when a man came from the office near them He was as tall as Sam, had dark auburn hair which sat in a messy mop around his head, and a scruffy beard. He wore three quarter length pants and a hoody, despite the cold.

"Shop's closed for lunch, come back in a half hour."

His accent was thick Boston, so much that Sam couldn't understand him at first.

"It's ten o'clock." Dean, apparently, had not appreciated being woken up so early, and was now being argumentative for the pure fun of it. The shop owner turned on him.

"An' I decided to have an early lunch, what's it to ya? Was thinking of taking a late lunch as well, you got a problem with that?"

"Whoa, hey…" Sam stepped between them, cursing his brother's ability to find the one other person in the vicinity who was spoiling for a fight. "He didn't mean anything by it, so we're just going to… go…"

"How many lunches do you need, douche?" Dean sidestepped Sam. "Maybe if you wore some actual clothes, you'd stay warm, wouldn't need to eat so much?"

"Look, guy, I don't know what your problem is…"

"Hey, look…" Sam pulled Dean's shoulder so he was stood between the two angry men once more. "Ignore him, he's just a bit stressed, you know?"

"Yeah well I don't appreciate people coming in here tellin' me how to run my business, see?"

"Well, we're not going to…"

"I really don't appreciate it."

Wow, this guy was more obstinate than Dean. Sam was debating exactly what to do, when the guy suddenly fell forward, eyes wide with surprise; he turned around, looking for his assailant. Hella grinned up at him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"Jög!"

He was still for a moment, frozen in uncomprehending shock. Then, in one movement, he threw his head back, laughed, gripped her under the arms, and spun her around.

"Hel!" he grinned, and the two began chatting excitedly in Norwegian. Sam and dean exchanged glances. After a while, Jög turned to them.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea…" His accent was completely different, the thick Bostonian replaced with Norwegian. "Come into the office, we will all have lunch."

"Weren't you just going to lunch?"

"I was only going for a swim. It can wait."

(-*-)

They sat in the rather spacious office, eating the sandwiches and donuts Jög kept there. Seeing Hella with her (apparently) eldest brother was odd. As much as she had gotten on with Fen, and as much hatred as there had been with Vali, Sam had not expected to see Hella so babied and fussed over by the supposed sea serpent who, the more Sam looked at him, resembled a double sized Gabriel.

"You finally stopped messing around with Baldr, then, hmm?"

"Oh, shut up, there was nothing going on."

"Not if I'd have anything to say about it." Jög exchanged dark glances with Sam and Dean, and Sam smiled weakly. Hella had a scary powerful family, it seemed. Not that she wasn't powerful herself, he supposed, although they'd yet to see her physically fight anyone.

"You've got Valkyries after you." Jög tutted. "They came here a day or so ago, demanding to know if I'd contacted you."

"Bitches." She scowled. "Did they tell you?"

"About you getting on to some hare-brained scheme to bring Dad back, you mean?" He raised his eyebrows at her, and Hella looked honestly bashful. Jög took a bite from a donut. "You're stirring up trouble, Hella. Maybe… maybe he's supposed to be dead."

"I don't think so." She shook her head. "The Christian faith is…"

"I know. The whole apocalypse-ascendency-whatever the hell. It's no concern of yours."

"But Dad could fix it."

"Or he could make it worse."

"Jör…" She looked at him, turning on an impressive pair of puppy dog eyes. Dean shook his head. She was worse than Sam had been as a kid. Jög seemed to agree, as he sighed loudly and covered his eyes.

"What do you need me to do?"

"We just need some hair, or some sort of D.N.A."

"Well, if that isn't a chance to show what I think of Dad… fine. Scissors?"

She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, before pulling a pair of scissors from her pocket. Jög cut off a lock of his hair, and handed it to Hella. He raised an eyebrow at her, cocky grin in place.

"Good enough?"

"I love you!" She grinned, hugging him. He hugged back, and rolled his eyes.

"You guys ever get sick of her, come tell me; we'll go drinking and share stories."

Sam laughed, and they agreed to meet again soon. They had all started to leave the office, when they heard a few people enter the shop. They pushed out to see the group of three men moving around the shop. Jög was not impressed.

"Sorry." The Boston accent was heavily back in place. "Shop's closed for lunch."

"Oh." One of the men, heavy set and bald, grinned at Sam and Dean. "This won't take a minute." His eyes turned black.


	7. Chapter 7

Hella had mentioned the possibility of demons chasing her. Even if she hadn't, Sam reasoned, they would still have been taken by surprise, but they would probably have had their weapons on them anyway. Years of training does that to a person. As it was, everything seemed to happen very quickly; Dean went for the sawed-off he had inside his jacket, Sam took Ruby's knife from his belt, Hella and Jög hit the ground as two of the three demons lunged for Sam and Dean.

Dean got the one that was approaching him and the one that was stalking towards Hella, no problems. Sam had to struggle a bit more, but the demon was killed easily enough. Dean had grabbed Hella's wrist and was already half way out the door. Sam stopped to check Jög was following them, and then ran out into the cold.

The grey sea had become tempestuous, and the sky had given way to storms. The wind howled and screeched, and rain fell, big fat raindrops firing down at them with force. Jög ran straight into the sea, shucking his clothes as he went, his body stretching and warping. Sam gasped in the cold air as he saw Hella and Dean ten feet in front of him, running towards the Impala. More demons appeared, encircling them.

It was an ambush.

Sam sprinted to catch up with them, plunging Ruby's knife into the back of the neck of one demon, pulling it free before turning and slashing through the air at another, which had tried to creep up on him.

"Sam!"

"Dean! You ok?"

"I'm good." Dean was shooting at any demons that tried to approach, but he was not exactly in the best of positions to be using a gun. "Could do with someone covering my back, though."

"I'm here, I gotcha…" Sam stabbed at another demon, just scratching, but enough to buy them some time and space. "Hella, you ok?"

"Mm…" Hella whimpered, her usually pale skin now even paler. She stuck close to the two of them, gripping what looked like a dagger in her hands. She looked so small… so weak…

Sam realised, then, that Hella wasn't like the other pagan Gods they'd met. Those were Gods who had gone into the world. They were selfish, violent and would do anything to get their way, which made sense, if you looked at their myths. But Hella? She'd never left the giant hall that was Hellheim. She'd probably never been in a car until a few days ago, and she'd certainly never killed anyone… even if they were demons, it must have been terrifying for her.

One of the demons lunged at her, trying to grab her by the shoulders, but she brought her little dagger up and slashed blindly at it. The demon staggered back, blood oozing from the cut, which was odd, because it couldn't have been much more than a graze.

The demon looked at the wound, and then stared at Hella, gasping as it shrivelled and shrank, seemingly starving to death in the space of a few seconds. Its skin became so dry, it turned to dust. Eventually, the demon crumpled on itself.

"Uh… what was that?" Dean shot another demon, glancing at Hella.

"It is my blade." She spoke, her voice forcibly calm. "In your language, it is called famine. It's not supposed to be used as a weapon, but I think this counts under the "desperate times" caveat."

Sam looked out to the sea, just in time to see a massive tidal wave loom over them.

"Uh, guys, hold tight…"

They clung to each other as the wave smashed over them, blasting apart the small circle the demons had formed around them.

"Car!" Dean yelled, over the now howling wind. "Now!"

They struggled towards the Impala, the waves and wind roaring at them, occasionally crashing down behind them.

Sam could see the Impala in front of them, they were so close… At least ten more demons appeared in front of them, five leaping towards Dean and struggling to take the sawed-off from his hands. The rest went for Sam.

Amid the flurry and confusion, he heard a high pitched wail drifting to him over the wind, and then felt something heavy blind-side him. He fell to the floor, blackness covering the rain, the wind, and the sounds of Dean's shotgun.

(-*-)

The sky boiled. The ground burned.

Ash consumed him, burning, whispering, clawing…

_It hurts._

He could feel darkness plucking at him, as he lay, unable to move.

His arms and legs were immovable, bloodied and bruised. His head ached and throbbed, his whole body wracked with spasms of pain. For now, he was alone.

_Alone._

This was one of his brief periods of respite. He occasionally got these moments, these islands, where for a little time, they'd leave him alone. Let his pain wash over him, tear through him. Did they come a minute or millennia apart? He couldn't tell. He just begged for these moments of being alone.

_Alone. Alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone._

Bobby, we need to do something.

The shadows stirred and twisted, clawing their way up to him. The brightest and darkest, loudest and quietest, strongest and weakest…

Well can you get any idea…

They were everything. They destroyed him and brought him back daily, and he could barely remember a time when he wasn't alone.

Nope, no word of…

Sam stirred, his eyes opening as the real world cut through his nightmare. He blinked awake, his head feeling like it was made of lead, the motel room ceiling swaying above him. He turned his head slightly, seeing Dean stood by the door, talking into his cell. He grinned when he noticed Sam.

"Well, Sam's up, at least… Yeah, ok. Just… find out what you can. Bye."

Dean hung up, sitting on the bed opposite Sam.

"How you feeling?"

"I've been worse. What happened?"

"You got blind-sided by a demon in a body-builder meat suit." Dean stared at the floor, looking weary and down-trodden.

"I got rid of most of them, but… they got Hella."

Sam blinked, feeling the weight of the words hit him, and being more surprised to find out how upset it made him.

"Well… do we know who sent them? Where she is, what they want with her?"

"Nothing." Dean shrugged. "But going on the fact that they let her get Jög's hair before they attacked, Bobby's betting on this being to do with the ritual. He says we just have to… wait for the ransom note, I guess."

"But… no, Dean we have to find her."

"There's not much we can do, Sam."

"But…" Sam sat up, and instantly regretted it. His brain felt like it was rolling around his skull. Dean shot him a sarcastic smirk.

"You're not going anywhere. Most we can do is rest up… maybe figure out how we're going to get Gabriel's remains, if we need to finish this ritual. But for now, rest." He patted Sam on the knee, and moved to the fridge.

Sam did what he did best; namely, he fell into a pit of anxious worry.

(-*-)

They stayed in the motel for the rest of the day, making sure they were patched up and fully stocked on all the ammo they needed.

Sam spent the day popping pain killers and drifting in and out of nightmare-ridden sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he got to his feet and stretched, deciding to make himself some breakfast. That was when the TV jumped into life.

"Dean?"

Sam slapped vaguely at Dean's slumbering form, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Dean struggled awake, staring at the play icon on the TV screen.

"Dude, what?"

"It turned itself on..."

"What?"  
>"The TV, it just turned itself on. Should I press play?"<p>

Dean blinked, getting too much weird thrown on him given that he was still half asleep.

"Yeah… I guess…"

Sam hit play on the remote, and the picture jumped into movement, revealing a worryingly familiar face.

"Hello, boys."

Dean snapped awake in an instant.

"Why is Crowley on our TV?"

Sam shrugged, still not taking his eyes off the screen. The video continued.

"First thing, I'd like to apologise for the impersonal nature of this, you know I'd normally turn up to gloat in person… then again, talking to a camera is far less irritating than talking to you two."

He hadn't lost his trademark charm, Sam observed.

"I would love to pop topside and yell at you for a while, but the thing is, until our "mutual friend" is no longer seeking my dismemberment, I'm doing my best to stay under the radar."

He smiled; it was a terrifying, sadistic grin that didn't just seem to say "I know something you don't know", it also said "and I'm going to use it to ruin your life".

"Speaking of mutual friends, there's someone here who's just _dying_ to say hello."

He stepped back, revealing something that looked like a cross between a dentists' chair and a hospital gurney, lit by a bare, stark light. On the horrifyingly clinical surface was Hella, wearing what looked like a white hospital gown, her frost-bitten black legs hanging limply. She had a leather strap across her waist, her neck and the top of her head, and her hands were cuffed above her head. Her hair was wet with what could have been sweat or blood, and her face and arms were cut and bruised. She looked ten times worse than she did when she'd turned up at Bobby's

Crowley stood by her head, and motioned for the camera to follow him. They could see her face, her eyes red from tears, her nose broken and bleeding, her mouth gagged with a strip of leather. She cried mournfully at the sight of the camera, but couldn't move away.

"All this in one night…" Crowley tutted. Hella flinched at his voice, whimpering. "It wouldn't be so bad if you hadn't fought so much when we were trying to tie you down, you stupid cow."

Crowley pulled the camera back, smiling into it.

"It's simple, boys. I'm currently holding the most powerful piece on the board, but you have the means to make your own. So, here's the offer I'm going to strike you. You both go and get whatever else is needed for this ritual, and take it all to the warehouse this little slut mentioned. When you get there, we'll swap. Your archangel ritual, for my pagan goddess."

Crowley suddenly lost the tiny glimmer of levity he'd had in his voice. He moved the camera back so it was focused on Hella's face.

"And don't even think of trying to squirm out of this one. She's not going anywhere. The longer you put it off, the longer little miss half-breed spends here in my play room. You wouldn't want that now, would you?"

Hella's eyes grew wide, and she started screaming against her gag.

"Get to it, boys."

The video cut out.

Sam and Dean tore their eyes from the blacked out screen, and stared at each other. There was no time for wallowing in what they should have done. They grabbed their possessions and bundled everything into the Impala, trying to remember exactly how they had gotten to the Elysian Fields motel last time. They tore down the interstate, Sam searching through a road atlas, scanning the pages for landmarks.

They lived with death and torture. It was, for them, a fact of life. But if Hella had to go through that as well… they couldn't live with themselves.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: The following chapter has a lot of mentions and some instances of torture. **

* * *

><p>The tile was old, once white and clean ceramic, now stained with rust, erosion, mould and blood. It was all Hella could make out clearly. She couldn't see the floor, and if she looked up, she got blinded by the exposed bulb that hung above her. So she looked at the grime-laden, broken tiles on the wall.<p>

Her eyes were heavy. She was weak, and every part of her screamed in pain, begging for release. She found it hard just to keep her head up, to keep conscious. The manacles on her hands had long since broken the skin on her wrists, the metal now digging into exposed flesh and muscle every time she moved. All of her energy was focused on healing herself. They were clever like that; the torture squad would leave her just enough time and space to heal herself to the point where she wasn't likely to die soon, and then they would begin all over again.

She was grateful that she'd been allowed some dignity; as yet, they'd left her legs alone. Crowley had said he found it much more fulfilling to watch her writhe and squirm in pain than to violate her in any sexual sense. He said flat-chested adolescents weren't his cup of tea, and she should count herself lucky because they weren't exactly short on people who thought differently.

She did. As she felt the insides of her cheeks heal from where she had bitten through them while screaming, she told herself it could be much worse. Telling herself that was the only thing that kept her going.

Crowley had told her, on his last visit, that she'd spent the equivalent of fourteen hours there. It felt like she'd been there a week. He enjoyed watching her fight back sobs as he counted up time spent, ever so slowly.

Speak of the devil, Hella thought, as she heard a door close somewhere behind her. She didn't move. Crowley wandered into her field of vision, ever nonchalant and sickeningly fucking smug. She hated him. She'd never felt hatred before. She understood Vali a little better now.

"Fifteen hours. Well done. Of course, it would be slightly more interesting for all involved if you actually had any information for us to get out of you."

Crowley was drinking… scotch, she guessed, or whisky. She wasn't scared any more, she just watched him with a detached resignation, her tired eyes and ragged breathing the only thing about her that betrayed life. He swilled his drink around his glass, watching her, analysing her. She stared right back.

_Get on with it. Just get it over with._

"I admit, we're going slightly against company policy here… torture is usually employed to teach the dumb son of a bitch on the rack a lesson… `tell us what we want to know`, or `admit that you were wrong`, `sign yourself over to the dark side`, you know the sort. You… we don't really want anything from you personally." Crowley sipped his drink, leaning against the trolley. "We're really only torturing you to get to the two bleeding hearts upstairs. Those boys… you'd think, by now, they'd have some sort of a system for things like this. We might have to give them their own parking space soon…"

He shrugged, setting his glass down on the trolley and spinning it around, bringing it closer to Hella so she got a good look at all the gleaming, menacing instruments he was about to plunge into her skin.

"Like I said, kid, it's nothing personal. But we're going to need your daddy's super-powers, and if that means sacrificing some of our plan B, then so be it."

Hella made a conscious effort to swallow the spit that had been pooling in her mouth, rolling her head back and closing her eyes against the glare of the bulb.

"Quit it."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Shut up." She hissed, gurgling and spluttering from where blood and saliva bubbled in her red raw throat, mumbled from where the gag pressed down on her tongue, but she knew Crowley could understand her. "Fucking riddles… just get your sick kicks and fuck off again."

"Ah. So you can still talk. That's good; I'm not one to deal in broken merchandise." Crowley thought for a moment, before taking the gag out of her mouth. "Now, can you remember your manners?"

"Fuck you."

"Clearly not." He grabbed what looked like a sickle from the trolley, and scraped it over her arm, putting just enough pressure on the blade that it scraped off the top few layers of skin. Her eyes rolled back in her skull as she choked on a scream. He smiled at her, putting the blood-splattered sickle back on the trolley.

"I was having fun 'til you turned up. Counting the tiles. Laugh riot that was, and you made me lose count, bastard."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, and this time selected a long iron rod from the trolley.

"You have what I can only assume is your father's sense of humour. Never met him myself, but I can guess, since he was an archangel, he would have been just as defiant and utterly disgusting."

Crowley set the end of the rod on fire, and flashed another sadistic smile. He pressed the burning end into the flesh of her arm, pushing harder as she choked out a shocked scream, tears springing to her eyes at the smell of her own acrid flesh. He twisted the metal, relishing as she howled in pain, the still raw flesh being twisted, pulled on and burned.

"Now, here's what I'm curious about." Crowley took the rod away, watching the blisters and burn marks form on her arm. "I get the literal half-caste skin thing here; I think it looks quite… unique. But your legs…" He grabbed her ankle, and held it down to the table with immense force. Panic suddenly flared through Hella's mind, and she tried to kick Crowley's hand away, but he just grabbed her other foot too, pinning her legs together and uncomfortably straight.

"Now now, be a good girl. Bad girls don't get to keep certain privileges…"

Hella stilled. She sniffed and whimpered, the pain and panic kick-starting her brain to the state of fear. Crowley seemed to relish the fact that he could make her scared again, and if it meant she got to keep some shred of herself to cling to, she would shut up and do as he said.

"As I was saying… the flesh on your legs feels like normal flesh, even if it doesn't look it. It looks somewhere between ash and frostbite, which makes me wonder…" He raised the burning poker again, and Hella couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips as she screwed her eyes shut and braced herself.

"What does it look like burned?"

(-*-)

Now it was abandoned once more, the Elysian Fields motel was back to a state of disrepair. Dark, covered in dust and cobwebs, used as a dumping ground; it was hardly a fit resting place for a collection of pagan gods.

The smell of death and decay was heavy in the air, and Sam and Dean both had to pull their shirts up over their noses as they moved through the festering darkness, towards the room where they had left Gabriel to face off against Lucifer. Adjusting his grip on his torch, Sam took one of the door handles, stopping for a moment.

"Can you feel that?" He looked at Dean, who seemed uncomfortable.

"Feel what, Sam? Let's get going, we can't leave Hella down there."

"But… This place…" It was almost as if the building was crying, or that's what Sam felt, anyway. The atmosphere was horrible; it felt like guilt, betrayal, heartbreak… lost chances. "I'm serious, Dean, I'm getting some weird vibes."

"Yeah? Well maybe if you stopped being a massive girl, we could have grabbed the ash and gone by now. Open the door."

Sam nodded, mentally shaking himself. He pushed open the doors to the dining room.

"Well…" Dean blinked at the sight of the room in front of them. "That's new."

"Yeah." Sam tore his eyes away towards Dean, but turned back to the twisting Japanese cherry blossom tree that stood over the spot where Gabriel had died. His body was, thankfully, gone. Sam wasn't sure he could cope with seeing a half-decayed archangel.

_Especially not Gabriel._

He shook the thought away. He'd been wondering about Gabriel a lot lately, realising that maybe if they'd managed to get him on their side a little earlier, things could have ended a lot differently. They could have been team mates… hell, they could have been friends, but they'd barely tried to argue. Maybe if they'd actually put forward a proper argument, really tried to convince him… He wasn't really sure how he felt about that, so he focused on the job in hand and put all other thoughts out of his mind.

The burned imprint of Gabriel's wings still stretched over the floorboards, dotted in places with fallen cherry blossom. They began scraping at the floorboards, collecting up every bit of ash and sweeping it all into a Ziploc bag, keeping it separate from Hella's siblings' contributions. Sam felt another wash of that weird atmosphere when he took the bag from Dean, staring mournfully at the entire remains of one of the most powerful creatures who ever existed, contained in one Ziploc bag. The sadness sank into him, and he had to resist the urge to hug it to his chest. He shook his head, and they agreed to leave quickly, not watching at the cherry blossom tree lost its leaves, slowly beginning to die.

(-*-)

They pushed the final drive to the warehouse, swinging by to tell Bobby to keep on alert for them, since they didn't know what was about to happen, but they did know that Crowley wouldn't take kindly to Bobby turning up as well.

The warehouse had been abandoned for at least ten years, which meant it was nicely isolated and no one cared when the Impala screeched to a halt outside of it, and two guys with weapons and torches started bundling things inside.

"Alright." Dean yelled to the warehouse in general. "Crowley, we're here. We've got all the ritual crap, so come on; show your ugly demon face."

Crowley appeared, his hand gripping Hella's shoulder.

"Dean. You know, flattery gets you nowhere."

He forced her into a chair, where she was instantly shackled. She gazed mournfully at Sam and Dean from between her filthy, knotted nest of hair. Sam had to restrain himself from punching Crowley in the face and picking Hella up so he could take her away to Bobby's house, where she'd be safe.

Dean seemed to be having similar thoughts, looking at her with a sort of horrified sympathetic pity. She'd probably been with Crowley for about twenty four hours. How long was that in hell? Months? A year? Sam took in her bloodstained hospital gown, her grimy skin, her bloodied and scabbed wounds. She was swaying slightly in the chair. She looked thinner than she had been before. He just wanted to hug her.

He dug his nails into his fist. Crowley inclined his head towards Hella, staring at the Winchesters. Sam held out the Ziploc bags, and they flew from his hands towards the terrified girl. She seemed to have forgotten how to move, so much so that she fumbled and dropped them.

Crowley sneered at her with disdain and pushed her out of the chair, knocking her to the floor. Her ankles and wrists were still chained, but she had enough room to move slightly. Every time she moved, it was with great juddering effort, as blood dripped out of the breaks in her skin caused by the manacles.

"Do the ritual."

She whimpered under Crowley's authoritative stare, scrabbling about to pick up the Ziploc bags, painting a pentagram on the floor in her own blood, covering it in what looked like Enochian. All the while, her leg was twitching and jerking erratically. She had to stop every now and then to still her shaking hands. She looked up at Sam and Dean, her eyes still mournful, but…

Wait, what was that?

She continued painting, muttering to herself. Crowley moved behind her, ignoring her leg as it scraped her foot across the floor, watching her hands instead.

She emptied the Ziploc bags into the middle of the pentagram, and looked up at Sam and Dean again, catching Sam's eye.

There it was again, that unmistakeable flash of gold.

Sam nudged Dean slightly, motioning to Hella. She nodded slightly. What was she trying to communicate? They braced themselves.

Hella continued muttering, her chant getting louder. It seemed like Enochian, but it could have been Latin or Norwegian for all Sam knew. Right now he wasn't really focusing on what she was saying. He was focusing on her tense arms and shoulders, and the fact that her leg stopped moving at the same time as her hand. As she recited the last few words of the chant, she flipped over to her back, staring up at Crowley.

There was a blinding white light, which dimmed, flickered, and then grew even brighter before going away all together.

When it did go away, and Sam stopped feeling like he'd just stared at the sun, he could make out a familiar figure on his knees, clinging to Hella. Crowley had been flung aside, and was currently staggering to his feet on the far side of the room. Sam and Dean went towards them, but two of Crowley's cronies appeared behind them and grabbed them by the shoulders pressing them into place. It was useless to struggle.

They watched as Crowley got to his feet, recovering before Gabriel could. He dragged Hella up by the arm and practically threw her across the room, before clicking and lighting a ring of holy fire around the apparently still weakened Gabriel.

"Gotcha." Crowley snarled, wiping blood away from the corner of his mouth. "Gabriel, I presu…"

That was as far as Crowley got, before he was thrown forward into the opposite wall, flipping onto his back and sticking his arms to the wall. He struggled against his invisible bonds, staring wide eyed as Hella stood, rolling her shoulders as her wounds healed themselves. She turned an eye on the demons restraining Sam and Dean, and they disappeared in a flash of light. She smiled.

"Sam. Dean. Crowley, is it? Well… I think that was my best entrance yet."

Stunned silence greeted her words. She grinned, unusually smug. She seemed… different. Sam's eyes grew wide. Did she have a different accent?

"Hella?" Dean croaked, glancing at Sam. Sam shook his head. Whoever she was, she wasn't Hella.

"Mmm… close, but no. Speaking of which, actually, can I get a round of applause for my wonderful assistant here, didn't she do well?"

Hella (or so Sam had thought) motioned to Gabriel (or so Sam had presumed) who had until now been standing, looking weak and confused in the ring of holy fire. At this, supposed-Gabriel stood up straight, waved awkwardly, and smiled.

Supposed-Hella clicked her fingers, and she was holding a watering can, which she promptly used to douse the flames, causing supposed-Gabriel to relax and join them. Sam felt his breath solidify in his lungs.

"Now." Supposed-Hella continued, clearly loving the attention of two humans and a half mad demon, "I know a true magician never reveals his tricks, but I'm going to have to go a little Penn and Teller on you here, because damn it I'm just so proud."

"First, you will notice not one, but two pentagrams. My lovely assistant hoped to get the jump on old black-eyes there by simultaneously casting a fake ritual in front of her, and the real ritual behind her. What sleight of hand! Or… foot, I guess… Second, and we'll forgive you for not spotting this one, since if you had been really looking, your eyes would have burned up and fallen out of your head, but there were two flashes of light. The first was me materialising, throwing Crowley out of the way and falling down to hug my assistant here, and the second was us doing a meatsuit mambo."

Sam, his brain beginning to regain control of his jaw, tried again.

"Gabriel?"

"Correct! I knew they called you the smart one for a reason." Gabriel-in-Hella's-body shot Sam a wink, before casting a thoughtful look over his new vessel. "And… you know, I'm sorry but this just isn't sitting right. Hey. You… I don't like you. Have fun."

He, or, she… Dammit, Sam thought. _Gabriel_ snapped _Gabriel's_ fingers, and Crowley disappeared. _Gabriel_ closed _Gabriel's_ eyes and there was another glowing white light. When it cleared, Sam was seeing sunspots again, but more importantly, everyone seemed to be back to their own bodies and appropriate genders. Hella looked over her arms and legs, a weary smile stretching uncertainly over her face.

"You fixed me up." She smiled, by way of first words. Gabriel smiled, holding his arms out to her. He had, somehow, appeared exactly as they last saw him, clothes and all. As she ran to hug him, he shucked off his jacket and used it to cover her, her hospital nightgown doing next to nothing under the blood and sweat stains. For a moment, they stood completely still, wrapped in each other's arms, and there was nothing but quiet.

Dean, being the emotionally stunted moment wrecker that he was, punched Sam in the arm, said "I'm going to go wait in the car" and left, the door slamming behind him.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and smiled at Hella, motioning that they should leave. She nodded, and they walked towards Sam. Sam realised that they were both supporting each other, Hella's recent experience evident on her features, and Gabriel… well… Sam remembered what coming back from the dead felt like, and he supposed it must have been worse for an archangel.

"So… It seems I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Dude." Sam laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "You have no idea."


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N.: Some readers seem to have gotten the impression that this story is finished… While I appreciate and revel in your feedback and comments, I have to say, you clearly don't know me nearly well enough if you think I'm going to leave it there! Our adventure is only just beginning!**

**(-*-)**

They were dazed, slightly, as they stumbled into the car, an uncomfortable weight pressing on Sam's shoulders. It was as though some invisible force had grabbed his shoulders, and every time he looked at Gabriel, or thought he saw Gabriel looking at him, he felt the hand press down, forcing him to snap away from it. He was most definitely not comfortable with how his insides had all started doing a two-step when he had seen Gabriel through all that white light. He decided to employ the Winchester patented method of Repress'n'Deny until such a point where he was calm, collected and drunk enough to actually examine those feelings. For now, they were bound and gagged in his mental trunk.

Hella, her skin still pale and sickly, appeared to be compensating for her trauma by getting completely over excited, practically bouncing in her seat behind Dean. Unfortunately, it seemed that, when she got excited, she forgot which language she was speaking.

"Far, jeg er så glad det fungerte! Jeg har så mye til..."

"Hella." Gabriel silenced her, his eyes closed. He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable, before resting a hand on hers. "I'm very grateful for the whole un-deadening thing back there. Really, you have no idea how much. But I'm more than a little tired, honey, I need some rest."

Hella looked at him with wide eyes, shrinking back and biting her lips. Sam watched her in the rear view mirror, noting how content she was to sit there staring at her father, not letting her thoughts drift to her own torture, even for a moment. That devotion… that kind of loyalty, had he and Dean been like that? Unquestioning, unheeding, just silently begging for their father's approval…

"Hella." Sam cleared his throat. "Are you ok? You sure you don't want to sleep or anything?"

"Yeah…" Dean chimed in, glancing at her in the rear view. "It's a half hour between here and Bobby's, maybe a little rest would do you good."

Hella seemed reluctant, but she agreed all the same, settling in and closing her eyes. Gabriel sighed.

"Thought she'd never fall asleep."

"I thought you were resting?"

"Resting doesn't mean sleeping." He responded, his voice the same dry sarcasm as it had ever been, but Sam could see his eyes were heavy, and he seemed to be using serious effort to form words.

"Are you sure you're all in one piece? The ritual did work properly?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just a little stunned. Going to need some recuperation time."

"How do we know this is for real?" Dean's grip on the steering wheel had tightened, and Sam could see Dean was already put on edge. Who could blame him, Sam guessed, after all the things the Trickster had put them through.

"I assure you, Dean, I am the archangel you were looking for." He gave a brief huff of laughter, and pressed his forehead against the window, shielding his eyes with his hands. "Look inside yourself, you know it to be true."

"Yeah, well, Alec Guinness impressions aside," (Sam ignored Dean's comment about him being a massive nerd) "we didn't bring you back for nothing. You really missed a lot while you were out and…"

"No…" Gabriel moaned. He looked and sounded strung out… and a little bit drunk. But not the funny, goofy kind of drunkenness you might expect; more the morose, drowning sorrows kind of drunk. "Talk about it tomorrow. I need to rest, or I'll be no good to anyone. I doubt I could mojo open a can of soda at this point, and my grace is kind of in the process of being born again."

"But we need to talk…"

"Tomorrow, Sam." Gabriel fixed both Winchesters with his serious face. The last time they'd seen it, it had been accompanied with orders to get Kali the hell out of the way and let the angels duke it out. They both got the message.

(-*-)

_It hurts._

Sam is eternally locked in this horrifying new pain that he's never felt before. There are not words to describe the sheer torment, the agony, because when he experiences it, it is all he knows, and he cannot remember any words at all. The only sounds he can make are screams…

"Sam."

Dean shook him awake, a weird grin on his face. "You ok, buddy?"

"What…" Sam blinked and stretched, prizing his head away from the passenger window of the Impala. The dream was already retreating from the cold yellow light that shone on them from Bobby's porch. Sam slapped himself back into reality, and was about to get out of the Impala when he saw Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.

Gabriel was staring at him, with a completely foreign expression. It wasn't quite pity, nor was it suspicion or compassion, it was just, whole heartedly, unerringly sad. Sam felt the force of the turbulent expression hit him, for a fraction of a second, before Gabriel seemed to snap to life and get out of the car.

Sam carried Hella to Dean's old room, and Dean elected to stay in the panic room, at least for the night. Sam was sure he heard him mumbling something about "keeping the damn trickster at arm's length", but didn't press the matter. Gabriel could stay on the couch, since he honestly didn't seem to know whether he'd end up sleeping or not. Bobby merely humphed that it was too late to be dealing with a bunch of idjits, and then went back to bed. Sam thought sleep sounded like a very good idea.

(-*-)

_It hurts._

No matter where he went, what he did, the pain was everywhere. At first, Sam thinks, he had tried to fight it. He is fairly sure he remembers that, because he thinks that, when he did, the pain got worse. He thinks that, but then he's not sure how the pain could get worse, so perhaps he didn't do that at all and he just imagined the whole thing.

_It hurts._

He thinks that he used to long for these moments, where the pain isn't happening, and he just has to deal with the fact that it happened. He thinks that he used to cherish them, or what he used to think was "cherishing", because he used to think they gave him what he used to think of as "release".

_Hurts._

_Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurts._

What did that word mean? He thinks he used to know it, or he thinks that's what he thinks, but he can't be sure. He's suffered the pain for too long, now, and the one thing he knows for certain is that he is broken. Broken and hurt.

He thinks he should know more. He thinks he used to, although he only thinks there was a "used to" to begin with, he thinks he may have made it up.

"_Sam..."_

_Hurt._

He thinks the pain has started again. But then, he thinks that the pain usually lasts longer, usually feels worse… he thinks the light may be stopping it. There's a lot of it, now, all around him, and he thinks that the light is something else. He thinks there was a word for it, once, he thinks that it used to be important, in the "used to" he only thinks exists. He can't think of the word, so he thinks he should call it Not-Pain, because that is all he knows.

"_Oh, kiddo… they really did a number on you, huh?"_

The light, the Not-Pain, Sam thinks it is holding him, because he thinks there's so much of it, and he thinks it's everywhere, and he thinks he can feel the light touching him.

_Hurt._

"_I know, Sammy. I'm sorry for walking in on you, but I could… I could feel you dreaming. That's all it is, Sam, it's just a dream, there's nothing to be afraid of."_

It's not just touching him, he thinks. He thinks the Not-Pain is holding him, he thinks he can feel it all around him, holding him. But he thinks there are special words for it, because he thinks the way the light feels is different to the way he thinks the pain feels.

_Hurt. _

"_I'm keeping them away, Sam. See? Look at me, Sam, look at my light. It's ok, I'm going to make it ok."_

_Light._

"_That's right, Sammy. Light. Not pain, light. I'm sorry, Sammy. I had no idea… I'd never have wanted them to do this to you. Sam? Sam?"_

_Light…_

(-*-)

The smell that filled the house was both salty and sweet, and it charmed Sam from his sleep in such a silky, luxurious call that he almost wondered if he was still dreaming. Waking up at your own pace to the smell of a decent breakfast isn't exactly something you get used to if you're a hunter.

He descended the stairs, following the smell that floated from the kitchen. He blinked slightly as he saw Hella and Dean sat at the kitchen table, with Gabriel stood at the stove. He turned around as he heard Sam's footsteps, revealing a frankly ludicrous and slightly disturbing "Kiss the Cook" apron, which was covered in hot pink PVC lip prints and had one corner emblazoned with a winking cat face.

Sam nearly choked.

"Morning, Samsquatch. Want some choc-chip pancakes?" So saying, he flipped one onto a plate. Sam, managing to drag his eyes away from the Apron Of Terror, went to the fridge for some milk.

"No, thanks, I'm not a fan."

"Sammy likes boring food for breakfast." Dean teased, reaching forward to steal his plate, but getting a swift spatula-smack to the back of his hand.

"I like _healthy _food, Dean." Sam didn't look up from checking the expiry date on the milk, before pouring himself a glass. When he turned around again, the pancake meant for Sam was now a selection of fresh fruits, toast and a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow.

"I take it you're recovered."

"Not quite." The apron disappeared, thankfully, and Gabriel sat down between Sam and Hella. "I'm stretching my muscles. Mojo-therapy, if you will. This is… to say thanks." He seemed awkwardly humble, motioning at the impressive breakfast spread. "And sorry. For generally being a douchewad. I had my reasons, but I appreciate that I maybe wasn't helping things, and we need to move on."

"Wow." Sam eyed the archangel suspiciously as he took a spoon and tucked into the fruit selection. "That's… surprisingly humble of you."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I was still totally accurate in saying you two knuckleheads should just follow the script, because for one thing I wouldn't have died. But `I said, You said` is not going to get my little brother out of the astronomical tree he's gotten stuck in."

Hella grinned at Sam.

"Dad said he's going to help save Castiel."

Sam shot a sidelong glance at Dean, who was watching the archangel with something not far from reluctant hope. Dean couldn't forgive and forget, but he could revise his earlier statements.

Sam wondered, briefly, if he shouldn't be more pissed off about Gabriel trying to breeze in and buy everyone off, but… somehow he didn't. Somehow, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had the sincere impression that Gabriel wanted to help.

"I said I'd try. Give me a few days, let me get fully recovered, then we'll see about plans." Gabriel swallowed a mouthful of pancakes, and narrowed his eyes at Sam.

"What's eating you?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just… do you ever have that feeling that you had a really amazing dream, but every time you try and remember it, you can't quite get there?"

There it was again, just like Sam had seen in the Impala. A flash of that unwaveringly sad face, except this time, with a little shine to Gabriel's eyes. He shrugged, and it was gone.

"I can't say I ever had. But then, you know, Archangel."

They ate for a while, before Dean seemed to remember something, and nudged Hella's elbow. Hella looked at him, seemed to get the drift of whatever he was trying to tell her, and giggled. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who was scooping the last few remnants of his pancakes into his mouth. By way of an answer, Dean jerked his head towards the door.

"Hey, Dad?" Hella smiled, her face the vision of pure innocence. She stood slightly, as Gabriel looked up.

"Yeah?"

"Fen says hi."

"Oh… I should probably go visit him, once I'm running at full speed."

"Yeah." Hella grinned at Sam and Dean, who were slowly backing away from the table. "I'm sure he and the puppies would love to see you."

"It's been a… wait, what?"

"Hey douchewad, you're a grampa!" Dean grinned. Gabriel's eyes grew wide, and he stared at him. "Hey. It had to happen sooner or later, given how old you are."

The three of them darted out of the kitchen to avoid the left-over pancakes which flew after them, followed by a stream of curses. _Ok_, Sam huffed. Maybe he could get behind having Gabriel join the team. If nothing else, it would be fun.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam stared up at the Sorority house, a faint scowl on his lips.

"I am not happy with this." Gabriel muttered from the seat behind him, making Sam jump. It had been both reassuring and annoying to know that, even at half power, Gabriel was as powerful as Castiel had been to start with. The archangel was glaring at him now.

"Why aren't you in there with her?"

"Dean went in with her. I thought I should stay in the car. I'm not feeling too good." Sam stifled a yawn. It was true; he had barely slept at all last night, managing only a few hours of very light dozing. He was not up to dealing with Sorority girls. Gabriel continued to glare.

"Dean? Really? I'm trusting my daughter's survival at some haunted Sorority house to your meat-head brother?" Gabriel sat back in the seat and huffed. "I am not happy."

"Well, suck it up." Sam shifted around in the seat to glare at him. "Hella's old enough to take care of herself... you know, you wouldn't be here if she couldn't."

Gabriel sent him a glare that could cut diamonds.

"She's an adolescent. You've taken my adolescent daughter, covered her in make-up to make her look older, and thrown her to rabid play-boy-bunny pledges."

"Would you like to do it instead?"

Gabriel scowled again, looking out of the Impala's window and up to the house. They'd already had this argument, and Gabriel had already conceded that he was not well enough to hold an illusion for anywhere near long enough.

There had been five pledges from this sorority abducted and killed, under suspicious circumstances. The research they'd done led them to the verdict that it was probably a ghost, which was a simple, straightforward case to ease Dean back into hunting and out of his increasing agitation. Bobby had practically thrown him out of the auto yard. Everyone knew he was obsessing about Cas, but his specialised Winchester self-medication of drinking, eating and internalising meant he wouldn't be talking about it any time soon.

"Hey, how are you and Hella?" Sam realised this was the first time he and Gabriel had been alone since the angel had come back. If he was on their side now, they may as well talk.

"Fine. I mean, she's a bit shaken up about the whole torture thing, but we're fine. Why, shouldn't we be?"

"Well… it's been what, fifty years since you last saw her? Isn't there… I don't know, distance?"

Gabriel blinked at him, tilting his head to the side. Then, he broke into a slow, almost patronising smile.

"You sweet little human. I've been around since pretty much the dawn of creation, Sam, fifty years is nothing."

"But what about Hella?" Sam scowled, not liking the belittling tone Gabriel had started using. "I mean, she's only…"

"She's been around since the late 700s, Sam." Gabriel smirked, enjoying Sam's befuddlement far too much. "Sixty years for her is like… a year or two, at most."

"Still, don't you worry?" Sam suddenly found himself taking Gabriel's off-hand nature very personally, as though Hella were his family, not the archangel's. "She's not exactly had an easy life, and it seems kind of like you left her to fend for herself."

"Hey, I don't like what you're implying." There was that flash of seriousness again. That anger and righteousness that set Gabriel apart from his trickster alter-ego, reminding Sam that he was treading on very thin ice. "I care more about my little girl than you seem to realise. Hell, where d'you think she got the ritual from?"

This threw Sam off course.

"What?"

"Yeah." Gabriel seemed simultaneously triumphant and embarrassed. He turned away and stared out of the window some more. Sam turned further around in his seat, hanging his arm over the back.

"No, tell me. You can't leave it like that."

Gabriel looked like he was going to refuse, but seemed won over by Sam' s innate curiosity. Alright, so he was supposed to be arguing, but he was naturally intrigued by the possibility of hearing some sort of Norse myth back-stage gossip.

"When Hella was first banished to Hellheim, I visited her as often as I could. I hated to see her treated like that. I mean, don't get me wrong, the boys weren't treated any more fairly, but they were at least given their freedom. Told to go out into the mortal world and sort themselves out. They could handle that. But Hella? She was just a little kid, you know, and the way they treated her…"

He broke off, his jaw set, like he was reminding himself that it was only a memory. Sam was near hypnotised, finding it impossible to look away.

"They took her up to Asgard, looked at her arms and her legs, and started shrieking about what a monstrosity she was. An _abomination._ Can you imagine that? Big, powerful, terrifying gods, picking on a little girl, insulting her right to her face. Then they banished her to live in the endless dining hall, and take care of those who died old or sick. Forever. I mean what the fuck is that?"

Spots of heat blossomed on Gabriel's face as he got caught up in the memory again. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he screwed his eyes shut. Sam felt his heart ache in sympathy. He knew what it was like to be an outcast.

"So I visited her as often as I could. And I used to tell her a story… See, Hellheim is… It's a dining hall, which stretches on for hundreds of thousands of miles lengthways. It's only a thousand miles in width, but that's still a journey. So I used to tell her, if she needed me, if things got so bad and she needed me, but I couldn't be there for her, I told her to walk the width of the hall, or until she felt better. She was supposed to start on the left side of the hall, and walk. I knew that I'd have to be dead before I'd let her suffer enough to reach the other side."

"I don't get it. Where does the ritual come into it?"

Gabriel huffed a bitter sort of laugh, before looking up and meeting Sam's eyes.

"It was painted on the right-hand wall."

They stared at each other for a moment. Sam wasn't sure whether he couldn't take his eyes off Gabriel's or if he just didn't want to. Gabriel smiled, awkwardly, his eyes shining with a sort of humble embarrassment.

"I told you once before, Sammy. Don't presume to know what I am."

And with that, he disappeared, leaving Sam seven different kinds of confused. He didn't have time to question it, though, as Dean chose that moment to throw open the driver's door and start up the engine.

"She's in. She's going to see what she can find out, and then she'll phone us tonight. Until then, we can… dude, are you ok?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah." Sam shook himself. Dean smirked.

"You look like a thirteen year old caught perving on the teacher. What happened?"  
>"Nothing!" Sam didn't like the girlish note of protest in his voice, so he tried again. "Nothing. I fell asleep, I had a weird dream."<p>

Dean said nothing, but continued to smirk all the way back to Bobby's. Sam couldn't be bothered to respond, putting more effort in trying to not think about Gabriel.

(-*-)

He was still here.

The pain twisted and boiled, in and around him, there was no way of telling when he ended and the pain began, he could feel the pain, he could only feel the pain, it crashed, it bashed, it clawed, it pulled, it cut, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt-

"_Oh, Sammy. Here we are again."_

Gone. Nothing now. Just light. Light, and the dull, retreating ache as the pain slowly faded away.

_Not pain._

"_That's right, Sam. You know, I really shouldn't keep doing this. It's probably jumping in on your dreams that's slowing down my recovery."_

_NO._

"_No?"_

_Light. Not pain._

"_That's me, Sam. What's the problem?"_

The noise was strange. It wasn't like the noises They made. They made noises that were scary and painful. This was… it was like… what was it like? He used to know the words. Now he didn't. He didn't know. It filled him with a new pain. A different pain. Pain like all his insides were trying to get out, like he was… what was the word? Word…

"_It's ok, it's ok, Sam. Sam, listen. Don't worry. You don't have to use your words."_

The light was holding him. It had done it before. When it held him, some of the pain went away. Some of his thoughts came back.

"_It's ok, Sam. Just relax, I can pick up on whatever you need to…"_

_Stay._

The light stopped making noise, and Sam felt the horrible lurch pain again. It made some of his thoughts go away again.

"_Say that again, Sammy?"_

_Light stay. Not-pain stay._

The light didn't make any more noise, but it held him tighter. Some of the lurch-pain went away, and Sam remembered the word. It fell into his brain like a raindrop, triggering off a ripple of memories.

_Scared._

"_Don't blame you, Sam. They scare me too, in real life. But this isn't real; you know that, don't you?"_

_Dream?_

"_That's right, Sammy. Dream. Not real. They can't hurt you, not any more, so don't let it get to you."_

_Safe?_

"_You're safe."_

The light felt… the word was there, so close in his mind that he could almost grasp it. What did it make him feel?

"Sammy! Sam! Move your ass!"

Sam woke with a start, his shin throbbing as he regained his bearings. He was on the couch in Bobby's sitting room. Dean had just kicked him in the leg to wake him up. Gabriel was sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, resolutely not staring at him. Had he been…?

"Hella just called. Said she's seen the ghost. It matches the profile we came up with earlier, so we just have to salt'n'burn. Let's go."

Dean was already half way to the door. Sam cleared his throat and stumbled to his feet.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel looked up at him, his expression unreadable. Sam pushed his confusion aside.

"Are you up to zapping us out there?"

Gabriel grinned, which was only encouraged by Dean's protests.

"Hell no. I am not trusting that trickster to…"

"Dean. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get Hella out of danger. Quit being a pussy and take it."

Gabriel snorted a laugh at this, standing up as he did so and holding his hands out. Dean scowled at Sam, before reluctantly trudging over to stand beside him.

"You're a cranky son of a bitch when you're sleep deprived, you know that?"

Gabriel reached up and tapped them both on the forehead. Sam could have sworn, in that brief moment, he saw Gabriel wink at him.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a surprisingly long time since Sam had dug up a grave. He stood with the torch while Dean took a turn at shovelling.

"So." Dean glanced up at him, between hefts. "You reckon he's for real?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. He didn't need to ask who Dean was talking about.

"You don't trust him?"

"You do?" Dean snorted, stopping his shovelling to stare up at Sam. "The shit he put us through, I'm surprised we're still intact."

"But he apologised for that. Maybe he's… I dunno, he's starting over."

"Seriously?" Dean shook his head, before resuming digging.

"What?"  
>"Just… dude, you trust too easy."<p>

"No I don't." Sam was bitch-facing. "I just think that the guy's been brought back to life by his estranged daughter. If there was more of a cue for turning over a new leaf, I can't think of one."

Dean shook his head, clearly wanting to make a comment about Sam's girly chick-flick bleeding heart, but he said nothing. Sam sighed.

"Do you think angels have an afterlife?"

Dean glanced up at him.

"I've never really thought about it."

"Seriously? I mean, do they have like a… retirement home in Heaven or something? Do angels go to Hell?"

"Lucifer did." Dean muttered, pulling himself out of the grave. "Your turn, Samantha."

Sam shot him another bitch-face, but grabbed the shovel and climbed down into the grave.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Dean laughed to himself for a moment, both quiet and content in the knowledge that no matter how much shit they went through alone or as a pair, Dean's childish teasing would never stop being amusing. For a while, the only sounds were the chuck-chuckking of Sam shovelling earth.

"You ok?" Dean leant against the tombstone, wearing his awkward, "emotional constipation is manly and I'll kill anyone who says otherwise" face.

"Shouldn't I be?"

"You know… the whole… remembering Hell thing?"

Sam shrugged.

"Mostly. I don't really remember much. Flashbacks, occasionally."

"Dreams?" Dean scrutinised him. Sam shrugged.

"Maybe. I wake up feeling tired and I can't remember dreaming anything. You tell me."

Dean shrugged. Waggling the torch at the dirt.

"Keep going."

(-*-)

With the remains salted and burned, Sam phoned Bobby.  
>"We're done."<p>

"Want to see if I can get sugar-puff here to spirit you home?"

Sam could hear Gabriel protesting in the background.

"You cover my house in candy, you'll put up with whatever I have to say about you, idjit."

Sam fought back laughter as he imagined Gabriel's affronted face.

"Alright, we're just outside of the graveyard."

There was a short moment, long enough for Sam to hang up the phone and tuck it into his pocket, when Gabriel appeared in front of them, with Hella and the Impala, looking faintly queasy.

"I thought you were taking us back to Bobby's?" Dean looked unimpressed. Gabriel shot him a look usually reserved for levelling cities.

"Me to you, us to Hella, all to Bobbys. Three trips. Me to Hella, Us to you. Two trips. And before you try to get smart, I was not leaving my daughter in a sorority house overnight, haunted or not."

"Dad." Hella rolled her eyes, in the manner of resentful embarrassment that almost made Sam forget she wasn't a teenager.

"No talking. Now, if you don't mind…" Gabriel staggered over to the graveyard fence, supporting himself against it as he seemed to fight back the urge to vomit. Dean shrugged, unlocking the Impala.

"Motel?"

"Motel." Sam agreed, as Dean and Hella climbed into the car. Sam looked at Gabriel once more.

He seemed to have steadied himself now, although he still looked short of breath.

"You ok?"

"I'll live." Gabriel shot him a smug grin, as he straightened up. "All flights postponed 'til further notice, unfortunately."

"We can make do. You ok to be in the car?"

"Yeah… although I would love to see your brother's face if I puked on the upholstery."

Sam shook his head, wondering if Dean hadn't been partly right earlier on.

(-*-)

They had booked in at the nearest motel, getting one room for Sam and Dean and one for Hella and Gabriel. Not that either of the latter needed to sleep, really, but in Gabriel's weakened state, he did appreciate being well rested.

They had gotten into their rooms, Gabriel still looking slightly winded, and Dean had immediately asked Gabriel how long it would be until he was recovered. Gabriel had taken more than a little offence.

"I'll be recovered when I'm recovered. I'm sorry if it's cutting in on your hospitality, but it's not ideal for me either."

Hella had hovered uncertainly by the door, glancing at Sam. Sam gave her a reassuring smile, trying to convey without words that Dean was just being pissy.

"Look, every day you're here recovering is a day Castiel's further gone. You haven't even started to talk about plans yet, and…"

"Tell me something I don't know, you luddite! You think I'm not worried about my kid brother going postal?" Gabriel had paused, shocked by his outburst, and sunk heavily into a chair. "Alright… there may have been some facts I… omitted. To save you from worrying."

"Gabriel?" Sam stood up straight at this point. He had been inclined to let Dean vent at him before, because he knew the archangel could take it, but Gabriel was looking very tired now. And Dean was slowly turning red in the face.

"Look, I'm… you remember how Castiel was so weak after he got cut off from the host? The force was weak with him and all that?"

Sam nodded, keeping one eye on Dean.

"Well… now it's not so much a case of being cut off from the host as there not being one."

"What?" Dean's voice was menacingly quiet. Sam was getting ready to restrain his brother, if needs be.

"There. Isn't. A host." Gabriel repeated, glaring at him as though Dean was the most insensitive idiot he'd ever seen. "There's only Castiel and the angels he hasn't killed yet. Most of whom have never been to Earth, and all of whom are getting weaker and fewer every day.

"So you're just waiting for him to kill his way through all of them, is that it?"

Gabriel glared at Dean with a fury Sam had never seen before. More than when the archangel had faced off Lucifer, more than when he'd given them the speech about playing their roles. For a moment, Sam got the impression that Gabriel's true form was shining through his eyes, enraged and powerful.

"Don't take it out on me, child."

The words hit Dean hard. Glaring at Gabriel, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him, muttering angrily.

As soon as the door closed, Gabriel seemed to slump with relief. Hella hurried to rest her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey... don't worry about Dean." Sam shrugged, awkwardly. "He's just… he misses Cas."

Gabriel laughed bitterly, patting Hella's hand as he stood up.

"Missing… yeah, that's one word for it."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, stretching as if he'd just woken up. Hella smiled at him, and excused herself to the bathroom.

"What do you mean?"

Gabriel laughed, looking incredulously at Sam.

"Seriously? Are you really that blind?"

Sam blinked, confused. Gabriel seemed to take that as an answer in the affirmative.

"Castiel is bonded to Dean. Ever since they first met, they have always been bonded to each other. But now, with Castiel turning his back on all that is good and sane, that bond had been severed, making Dean aware of it. `You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone`, I believe."

"So what, he's only just realised how important Castiel was?"

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at Sam, making him feel like he was the slowest kid in the class.

"Sammy… Dean's entire soul is tainted with heartbreak. He feels more strongly about Castiel shunning him than he did when Lisa left him. To him, this is about on par with you dying."

Sam blinked.  
>"So…"<p>

"Your brother loves Castiel, Sam. Loves him in a way that is boundless and limitless, which doesn't fit in with his limited human mind. That's why he's pining so much. It's because he's lost a lover he never knew he had."  
>"Oh." Sam finished, unsure of what to say. Then, as the words formed images in his mind, he tried again.<p>

"Oh, ew! Why would you tell me that? I mean, Dean's… he's not…"

"The gender of Castiel's vessel is irrelevant. What can I say, God loves love." Gabriel stared at the table for a moment, and slowly, two bottles of corona materialised. Eventually, they were solidly manifested, and Gabriel held one out to Sam. Sam wasn't going to refuse.

"But what about the whole "thou shalt not lie with man" thing?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes, shrugging.

"Damn editorials. The bible as you know it is probably ten percent accurate to what the original messages were."

"Well… I guess if someone would know…" Sam drank from his beer, sitting at the kitchenette table. "Good beer."

"Thanks. I try."

"Does Dean know he feels like that? That he's… angel-sexual?"

"He's totally confused. He'll figure it out, eventually."

From the bathroom, they could hear the rattling of pipes as the shower was turned on. Sam, realising they weren't going to be interrupted, decided it was as good a time as any to ask Gabriel something that had been nagging at him since earlier.

"Hey, uh… weird question." He looked up, making sure he had Gabriel's attention. "Have you been… did you go into my dreams?"

Gabriel started, before flashing a guilty grin at Sam.

"It seemed like the best option. Sorry."

"Why?"

"Can you… you really can't remember, can you?" Gabriel looked deep in thought for a moment, before nodding, and slipping into the chair opposite Sam. "Sounds about right. You're dreaming about Hell. Trying to process all those repressed memories via the subconscious."

"Am I?"

"Yeah… it's why I had to jump in, I couldn't sit by and feel your suffering in silence." He looked honestly abashed. "If it bugs you, I won't do it any more, but…"

Sam wasn't listening. He was straining his memory, trying to think if he could recall any of hi time in the pit.

He remembered saying yes.

He remembered throwing himself in.

He remembered…

"No light." Sam mumbled, his beer forgotten on the table. "It was… I wasn't there, physically, but… it was like I was in a coma, I didn't have any body, it was just my mind… pain." Memories trickled in slowly, as he tried to wrap his brain around the concept of a place without place, of a life without time, of physical pain to a mental form…

The pain.

It shot through him like a spasm, as the trickle turned into a flood. Every muscle tensed, dealing with cuts that had long since scarred over but never really formed. His heart was tearing free of his chest as his brain twisted around itself, trying to hold back the flood. Tears sprang to his eyes and screams caught in his throat. His hands fisted in his hair, digging and scratching at his skull.

Gabriel was at his side in an instant, resting calming hands on his face and shoulders.

"Sam. Sammy. Look at me. It's not here. It's not happening."

Sam gasped through the spasms of pain, feeling phantom pain pass through him like electricity.

"Sam. They can't hurt you any more. Trust me, ok? You have to trust me Sam. I know you've been hurt, I know you've had to deal with shit, but trust me… they're not here. They can't hurt you. They're not here. Close your eyes."

And, with great effort, Sam managed to hear and understand what Gabriel was saying. Shaking, he gripped Gabriel's shoulder as he screwed his eyes shut, every muscle shaking with extreme, excruciating, unending pain.

It was then that he felt it. Waves of warmth and light gently soothing, stroking, working their way through every cell in his body and slowly quieting the pain. It was so far beyond anything Sam had ever experienced, the only similarities he could draw didn't seem to make sense. It was like a sunlit pool, a toasted marshmallow, the colour gold and someone kissing the back of your neck, but it wasn't. It was a new car, it was watching rain evaporate, it was finding out how toffee is made, but it wasn't. All of these things, and more, and yet none of them… it surged through his body, quieting, soothing, until only one dull knot of pain remained, somewhere that Sam couldn't place. It wasn't a part of him, but it was with him, around him. A sort of shadow, maybe.

"I can't take it all away, Sam." Gabriel's voice was quiet, as the light faded away slowly. As it went, Sam opened his eyes. "It needs to stay there; you need to have it with you. It's a sucky badge of honour, but one you need."

As Sam's mind slowly returned to his body, he felt Gabriel's hands resting on his shoulders, and found it oddly comfortable.

"I can't make it go away, but I can make it better." He smiled wearily, before slowly taking his hands away. "That's… that's all I can do."

"Thank you." Sam managed to croak, the world still spinning slightly.

"Don't mention it. But boy am I glad we've got the rest of the night to recover."

So saying, Gabriel smiled and swigged his beer. He stretched again, muttering something about needing to rest up.

Sam just decided to sit very still until the world started making a little more sense.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam slept, for once, deep and dreamless, and woke feeling like he'd actually rested. As harsh and uncomfortable as the motel bed was, he was reluctant to leave it. A quick glance to his right told him Dean was still sleeping, and would probably be very hung-over if he ever did wakeup.

As far as he was concerned, that was reason enough to stay in bed for a while longer.

His thoughts turned to Gabriel. Not about whether or not he could be trusted; he was still certain that the Archangel truly had turned over a new leaf. He was more concerned with why.

Why had Gabriel agreed so easily to help? It was as if he'd never been killed. Was he maybe trying to make up for lost time? He wasn't sure how he felt about Gabriel invading his dreams, but then he knew that angels could sense emotions and trauma. Gabriel had helped him, that much was obvious, but why?

More importantly, why couldn't Sam stop thinking about him?

He cleared his head, turning his thoughts instead to what Gabriel had told him about Dean.

In love with Castiel?

Well, now that someone pointed it out…

The intense staring matches the "deeper, more profound bond"… and it was true, Dean hadn't been this upset when he lost Lisa. Any of the times he'd lost Lisa. Hell, he wasn't sure Dean had been this upset when their Dad died. Now it had been pointed out to him, he was amazed he hadn't noticed it earlier. He knew he couldn't talk to Dean about it, because Dean just wouldn't talk about things like that. He supposed he just had to let his brother sort it out and make his own mistakes.

Sam sighed and stretched, staring up at the ceiling. Life never used to be this complicated.

It was then that a large crashing sound resounded from the next room. Sam shot out of bed, Dean still growling and stirring like a sleep-addled bear. He opened the door, staring out into the hallway in time to see Hella storm out of the room she was sharing with Gabriel, slamming the door in the most practiced teenage manner.

"Hella?"

She scowled at Sam and disappeared, leaving Gabriel to wrench open the door and yell at the space she was just occupying.

"You don't think…" Gabriel blinked at the empty space, before shooting a glare at Sam. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" Sam leant against the doorframe, his hunter instincts sated that nothing was imminently going to kill them.

"Her and Boldr!" Gabriel was fuming, although his anger was less in the "holy soldier of God" category and more in the paternal "not like that you don't" category.

"Oh… Well, she said it was all innocent enough."

"Innocent? _Innocent?_" Gabriel pushed past Sam, still fuming. He paced around the motel room, ignoring Dean (still struggling towards wakefulness) and looking at Sam like it was his fault. "You don't honestly believe that."

"I don't know… I mean, she can take care of herself. I think Boldr would know better than to push her into anything… you know… inappropriate."

"Sam. Have you read Norse mythology? Ever? They're hardly known for their restraint and social graces."  
>"Yeah, but Hella seems like a smart kid. She wouldn't…"<p>

"Yes, Sam. Kid. She's too young; I should never have left her alone."

"Then why did you?" Sam was quite amazed at how badly Gabriel was reacting. He tried to speak in a calming, gentle tone, but he couldn't help sticking up for Hella. "If you were so convinced she was too young, why did you leave her?"  
>"It's not like I could help it. I wasn't too popular in Valhalla, and the angels were starting to get a trace on me. I had to go."<p>

"And you didn't go back because..?"

Gabriel glared at him.

"That's not fair. I was… busy."

"Busy being human? Getting caught up in the mortal world?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Gabriel, when we first found you, you were working as a janitor and playing overly complicated college pranks on people. Real busy."

"I had…" Gabriel's resolve visibly crumpled as he leant against the wall. "I messed up. I don't have a leg to stand on, do I?"

"Nope." Sam shrugged, deciding he may as well have breakfast, if he was up. "But she loves you. Go find her and apologise, I'm sure she'll come around."

Gabriel sighed, huffing a bitter laugh. Sam thought for a moment.

"Hey, Gabriel? How much of an angel is Hella? I mean, what kind of powers does she have?"

"All my powers, half my strength." Gabriel shrugged. "She doesn't take after her mother very much, which is something I'm more than a little grateful for." Gabriel shot him a rueful smile, before disappearing in a rustle of feathers. Sam shrugged and went back to his breakfast.

"What time is it?"

"Nine a.m., Dean."

"Shit… Got any coffee over there?"

"Yup."

Dean didn't move.

"Can you make me some?"

"Yup."

Sam sat down and started to eat his cereal.

"Well are you going to?"

"Nope."

(-*-)

The wind swept through tall pine trees, making the leaves dance and shimmy. Hella sat at a picnic bench, staring at nothing in particular.

"Hey."

She didn't respond, but she didn't stop him from sitting down, either.

"It's nice. Where are we?"

She shrugged.

"A place."

Gabriel nodded, scooting closer to her on the bench.

"You shouldn't really fly without paying attention. I know angels that lost a lot of blood that way."

She laughed bitterly, leaning on her elbows.

"I teleported home one night with Ron and Sid and Meg…"  
>"Hmm?"<p>

"Nothing." She shrugged.

"I'm sorry." Gabriel sighed, resting a hand on her back. "I'm a crappy Dad, huh?"

"No." She sighed, sitting up. "I just thought, out of everyone, you'd get it. I mean, when I started letting Boldr take me places, everyone told me how stupid I was, and even now everyone still laughs at me because of it. But I thought you'd get it."  
>"Why?"<p>

"Can you remember how you used to cheer me up? When you came to see me in Hellheim, you'd fill the whole hall with whatever crazy stuff I wanted. You'd tell me stories; you'd travel through time to find things I might like. Whenever you came to visit me, it felt like… just for a little while, it made me forget about being stuck there. And then you went away. And I don't blame you I get that you had your own reasons or whatever, but Boldr turned up and offered to actually let me go out and see the world. And… I just thought you'd get that."

Gabriel nodded, pulling her into a hug.

"I do. I'm just… I feel really guilty about leaving you like that, and I couldn't stand it if anything bad happened to you because I was a crappy Dad."

She hugged him back.

"You're not a crappy Dad. You saved me from Crowley."

"Yeah, not soon enough." Gabriel scowled. "Damn bastard. Still, he won't be bugging you for a while. If he's got any sense he'll know he needs some serious power before he can step to this."

Hella laughed, making Gabriel smile instantly.

"Oh no, I'm serious, you don't piss off an archangel. They bust a holy cap."

He smiled, hugging Hella tight as she laughed.

Then, everything exploded. Noise cut through the quiet forest, trees uprooted themselves, and dust tore through the air under the force of impact. When everything cleared, they saw a group of figures walk towards them. Five pale-skinned valkyries, dressed in white and gold, two of them with wolves on chains. They stared at Hella with dead eyes.

"You completed the ritual."

"Yes."

"You were warned. We must take both of you back to Valhalla now."

"We're going nowhere." Gabriel stood, gripping Hella's hand. He saw her bring her knife into her other hand.

"But your presence is…"

"I am no longer known as Loki." Gabriel stepped in front of Hella, locking eyes with them. "You hear that? I'm not Loki any more, I have nothing to do with Valhalla. Hella is no threat to you. Leave us alone."

"We cannot do that." The Valkyries spoke in unison, tilting their heads to the side. They were almost robotic in their quick, clean movements, in their dead eyes and emotionless voices. "We are ordered to retrieve you."

"Fuck off." Hella spat, gripping her father's hand. "Come get us, if you want us."

"We were instructed not to engage in physical conflict…"

"Fuck that, I can take you." She grinned, her face masked in cocky anger. Gabriel was too busy watching the Valkyries.

"As you wish." The Valkyries nodded, before springing forward, leaping into precise, meditated combat.

Gabriel placed his hand on the forehead of the one nearest him, and the Valkyrie exploded in a brief flash of light. Hella stabbed the two with wolves, watching emotionlessly as they shrivelled and died. One of them managed to knock her to the floor, but Gabriel sent her flying with telekinesis, where she smashed against a tree and lay immobile. Hella had the last one at knife point.

"We're not going back. We're nothing to do with you or any of the gods. Go back and tell them that we are no threat to them."

"And." Gabriel spoke up, grabbing the Valkyrie's shoulder and dragging her back into the clearing she made. "I am not vying to replace Odin. If they send any more Valkyries after us, then what has happened today will be nothing, you understand?"

The Valkyrie nodded, and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. Gabriel closed his eyes, and the forest around them was restored to how it was before, with not a single sign that anything had happened.

"You really hold a grudge, huh?" He smiled, holding his arm out to Hella. He wrapped his arm around her, gripping her shoulder, smiling as she hugged him. "Still pissed at them?"

"Bitches."

"Hey, you know, that kind of language is not very ladylike."

"So? I know you've heard worse."

"Aha, touché."

"So are you powered up again now?"

"Yeah… but don't tell Dean."

"Why?"

"I just… I need more time." He smiled, but it was a sad smile, awkward and uncomfortable. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and sighed. "Come on. Let's go find those silly mortal boys."


	13. Chapter 13

The journey back to Bobby's could have been easier. It could not have been made at all; it wasn't like they'd ever needed a base of operations before, but somehow Sam and Dean both felt the need to return, to stay as a unit. The thought of trekking across America once more to hunt monsters seemed kind of bleak in comparison, and while Sam doubted he would object to hunting every now and then, he had a feeling that putting the family business on hold for a while would probably do everyone some good. Bobby didn't seem to mind the company, either.

With Dean driving, and Sam in the passenger seat, Gabriel and Hella appeared quietly in the back.

"Where'd you get to?" It worried Dean how easily he accepted angels (or archangels or demi-angels or whatever Hella was) appearing in his car now.

"Had a fight." Hella sniffed. "We made up. Would have been back sooner, but we got… ice cream."

The pause was barely there. Dean certainly didn't spot it, but Sam did. He also spotted the way Gabriel's features tensed and relaxed in that split second. Something had happened, but neither of them would talk about it.

"What, you didn't think to bring any back?" Dean sighed. "Friggin' angels, man, I'm telling you."

"See?" Hella turned to her dad. "You don't tell him off for swearing, and I'm way older than he is."

"It's different." Gabriel shrugged. "You think I care about his public image?"

And so it went, talking, bickering, arguing, stony silence, then talking again, all the way back to Bobby's.

"All I'm saying is, it'd be good to at least discuss some sort of a plan." Dean repeated himself, as he had said the exact same thing on the last cycle, but Sam didn't point it out. Gabriel seemed to have a far bigger phrasebook than Dean.

"Why are you so intent on being kept in the loop? I've told you before, when I know something, you'll know something."

Dean turned to give Gabriel a quick glare. They were on a long, flat, clear stretch of highway, so he could afford a few seconds of angry scowling.

"Are you really surprised I don't trust you? Surely you should be more surprised Sam does."

"Dean…"

"Trust is not a relevant issue here… and don't..."

"You say 'don't call me Shirley', and so help me I will deep fry you in holy oil."

"Dean, can you slow down?"

"Don't tell me how to drive, Hella."

"Don't yell at her! It's not her fault you've got trust issues."

"Guys…"

"I thought 'trust wasn't a relevant issue', smart-ass. You know, for a trickster, you're a shit liar, you know that?"

Suddenly, a wall of flame erupted on the road, not three feet in front of them, causing Dean to slam on the breaks and punch the car into reverse.

"Shit!"

"It's holy fire…"

Dean looked over his shoulder and, between Gabriel and Hella (who were both looking a little queasy), he could see the fire racing around to meet at the other side of the circle. It was too late. They were already trapped. He stopped the car.

"Gabriel?"

"Yeah?"

"If I drove straight through the fire, what are the odds you two would be ok?"

"Slim. Well… as you've seen, Hella can hop through and not get too messed up, but me…"

"Damn it."

Sam looked around, feeling somewhat stupid for getting caught in such a simple way, when he saw a black figure standing just on the other side of the flames.

"Guys?" He pointed towards the figure and, seeing that they were trapped within the circle but not within the car, they stepped out.

The flames began to die down a little, and through the fast rising smoke they could see the organiser of the ambush. Dean had just about had enough of this bullshit.

"Is there a problem, officer?"

"Problem? No." Crowley was his usual arrogant self, grinning at them like a shark during tourist season. Hella moved closer to Gabriel, and he wrapped an arm around her, not once taking his eyes away from the demon.

"I mean…" Crowley continued, pacing around the edge of the circle, "I'm more than a little pissed off at my treatment, if only for the fact that I'd have expected something more imaginative than just being bumped back to Hell."

He glared at Gabriel, who glared right back. Something about the archangel being so quiet and still made him seem… mightier. And more than a little bit scary. And Sam began to be very grateful he was on their side.

"What do you want?" Sam said, if only to take his attention away from Gabriel (seriously, it was like he could feel waves of angel mojo or grace or something, making him glance over his shoulder all the time). Crowley held his arms open, his predatory smile firmly in place.

"I want to talk. Discuss something of a business merger I think you'll all find very… attractive."

He reached into his pocket, and produced a white handkerchief, liberally stained and splattered with blood.

"Guess who's this is?"

Hella gasped, and hugged herself closer to her father. Sam was unhappily reminded of Kali, and judging by the way his face suddenly went pale, Gabriel was too.

"You bastard."

"Please." Crowley sniffed, tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket. "You think I'd just let the most powerful piece on the board be taken so freely? You boys should start playing chess; it might stop you from lumbering into rather obvious and avoidable traps."

"So, what, you're using blood magic?" Sam tried to sound like he was calm and controlled, and he really hoped he was properly masking his inner monologue. His inner monologue was currently running _'ohshitohshitohshitohshit' _on stadium speakers all through his brain. Dean, for his part, seemed unusually quiet. His only movement was an odd twitching of his toe, swivelling side to side in the dust.

"The only reason our dear little miss over there has been running around has been because I've let her. But now, I think we've all had enough play, haven't we? Gabriel?"

Crowley stared dead at Gabriel, his mouth twisting into a condescending smirk.

"You know, I'm really starting to despise you." Gabriel had on his arrogant bravado, but there was fear in his eyes.

"Yes, well, take a number, it's a long line. Hey, and while you're waiting, why don't you tell everyone what we both…" Whatever it was Crowley was about to say, it went unfinished. Dean turned to the flames and, with a short, sharp kick, sent the small pile of dirt he had been accumulating over the fire. It created a small, but noticeable gap.

Seeing immediately what Dean had done, Gabriel had extinguished the flames and sent Crowley flying twenty feet backwards in one puff of wind.

"Boys." He shot them both a wink. "Cover your eyes." He walked quickly over to Crowley, and Sam just brought his hands over his eyes in time to blot out Gabriel grabbing Crowley by the throat and summoning a ray of blinding white light. When he opened his eyes, Crowley was gone. Not dead, because Crowley was cockroach-like in that manner, but gone.

Gabriel stood tall; his shoulders back and chin out, his shadow stretching along the ground behind him. Sam gaped as his shadow stretched, growing smooth black wings that spread out along the ground. Dean was already in the car again. Hella was smiling at her Dad's back with more than just relief. There was pure joy there, and pride.

Gabriel turned and walked back towards them, and got quietly in the car.

They all sat, for a moment, Dean looking far too angry to drive. He opened his mouth, clearly ready to turn and give Gabriel a piece of his mind, but Gabriel stopped him.

"Yes, I will explain. Everything. But for now, I have the handkerchief containing Hella's blood. You are both tired and hungry. I suggest we continue back to Bobby's, you guys rest up, and I'll explain everything tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes." The tone was not to be argued with. Once again, Sam felt the waves of Gabriel's strength washing over him, and he had to fight the urge to sink down in his seat like a child being punished. Dean seemed to get the gist, as he started the car without further argument. For the rest of the ride home, he said nothing.

(-*-)

By the time they got to Bobby's house, both Winchesters were starving. Gabriel and Hella disappeared, Gabriel suddenly intent that he was well enough to go and visit Fenrir. Dean finished his food quickly and retreated upstairs. Within a few moments, the familiar sounds of a Led Zeppelin album trickled down to them.

"Christ." Bobby stopped eating, and stared in the vague direction of the noise. "I thought he'd gotten better."

"Relapse?" Sam shrugged. "Maybe seeing Gabriel go all angel-fu on Crowley… I dunno, maybe it reminded him of Castiel?"

"Maybe." Bobby started eating again. Sam cleared his throat, not sure how to broach the next topic with the elder hunter.

"You know… Gabriel said, last night… you know how Cas and Dean have that 'profound bond' thing?" Bobby grunted an affirmative. Sam cleared his throat again. "Gabriel…" He forced a laugh, in an extremely failed attempt to be casual.

"'Gabriel' what, Sam?"

"Gabriel said that, uh… maybe that's why Dean's acting so upset, you know, because they were bonded."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Bobby shook his head and continued eating. Sam continued to be gut-twistingly awkward.

"He, uh… He said that the whole bonding thing meant that, up until now, Dean might never have noticed that he's… uh, he might be… in love with Castiel?"

Bobby froze. He stared at Sam. He pushed his plate away.

"Aw, now, why would you want to say a thing like that when I'm eating?"

"Well, I just wanted to know what you thought…"

"It's damn obvious what's going on between them two, but that don't mean I want to think about it." Bobby shook his head, before catching Sam's flustered expression and staring at him. "You didn't know?"

"Well I hadn't…"

"Oh, you really are self-involved, aren't you?" Bobby shook his head, and pulled his plate back in front of him. "I swear, Sam. You're a good kid, and you're clever, but a lot of the time, you ain't too smart. Your problem is you spend too much time wrapped up in thinking about stuff, and not enough time actually observing and reacting." He started eating again, shaking his head and chuckling at Sam.

"Idjit."

(-*-)

Bobby had figured out Dean and Cas years ago, shortly after Jo and Ellen had died. Sam felt like the slowest kid in class, and now he'd had it pointed out to him, he realised how obvious it was.

He wandered the perimeter of the auto-yard, shotgun glinting in the dwindling light, tasked with checking all the seals and sigils were still intact. It was just him and his thoughts, which was not particularly pleasant.

Stupid angels. Stupid brother and his stupid angel-sexuality.

That was something he wondered about. The fact that Gabriel had a term for it implied it happened quite often but… for some reason, the information that angels were genderless in their true form had led him to believe they were asexual. Apparently not.

He knew about the Nephilim, although there was little in the way of cold hard facts. 'Sons of God' had children with 'Daughters of man', which may or may not have been giants. Well, he knew now that angels could have children, or at least archangels could. He knew angels were just as susceptible and fallible as humans, if they got free of holy brainwashing.

So it seemed logical that angels could lust just like humans.

"It's not lust if angels do it."

Sam jumped as Gabriel appeared next to him.

"We don't yearn for the physical sensation but for the connection of soul and grace. It's all much more tantric."

Sam glared at Gabriel.

"Don't read my thoughts."

"Sorry." He shrugged, not looking in the least bit sorry. "It's not really something I can switch off. Besides, it's fun. Keep you company?"

"If I say no, will that stop you?"

"Hey, you're learning!"

Sam ignored the angel's sarcasm, and started walking. Gabriel followed easily.

"How's Fen?"

"He's good. His kids are all healthy and bright… but the mother…"

"You didn't get on?"

"She's a bitch."

Sam thought for a moment, before shaking his head. Gabriel shrugged, and produced a chocolate bar from somewhere.

"Yeah, Hella didn't like that one either. Screw you guys, I think I'm hilarious."

Sam snorted.

"Someone has to."

Gabriel laughed at this, seemingly surprised. He walked close to Sam, his shoulder bumping the other man's arm. Oddly, Sam barely even registered it.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to tell everyone the only course of action we have, in regards to the whole Castiel scenario… I've thought. I've thought and thought, I've looked at it from every angle, and it's the only option we have. I don't think anyone's going to like it."

"So?"  
>Gabriel shrugged.<p>

"You've got a good brain on you. Thought you might have a few words to the unwise."

Sam blinked, feeling kind of flattered he was being asked for his opinions by an archangel.

"Uh… well, I know Dean wants Cas back. More than anything."

"That's not what I mean." Gabriel shook his head. "Imagine… Imagine you're in my place. What would you be most worried about?"

Sam didn't know why he had expected a conversation with Gabriel to be easy.

"Uh… I guess, taking Castiel on? Going back to Heaven? Disappointing everyone?"

"Good guesses."

"I'd still do it, though. I mean, I've been in that situation. "Our last hope" kind of thing. I suppose the difference was, I put myself there, and you're not really choosing."

Gabriel nodded, but was silent. Sam stopped, his breath inexplicably tight in his chest as he rested a hand on Gabriel's shoulder.

"Hey, uh… don't take this the wrong way but…" Sam's eyes met Gabriel's, but couldn't hold their contact for more than a brief moment at a time. "You've kind of got a rep for running away, for tricking your way out of problems. That's what Dean and Bobby know you for, and I guess Hella can see that in you too. But… The last thing you said before you died was that you were on our side, and I believe you. It's tough when everyone's expecting you to mess up, believe me, I know. It's so easy to just give in and prove them right. But…"

He shrugged, looking away.

"I believe in you, I guess."

Gabriel stared at him for a long, silent moment. Eventually, Sam looked back at the angel, hoping he hadn't offended.

Gabriel was smiling. It was a bright, genuine smile which seemed so out of place on the ex-trickster's face. Out of place, but not unwelcome.

"Thanks, Sammy. You know, I'll never understand it. Here you are, with a history and a reputation that had you painted as demon spawn, and yet you've got the kindest, most believing heart… and then you've got your brother, who's all loyalty and righteousness, but he's a total pessimist. It's like an old Chinese fable or something."

Sam laughed, and smiled at Gabriel once more.

"I was wrong about you. You're not like Lucifer. Not in the slightest." Gabriel's eyes were soft and warm, and now Sam had worked up the courage to hold his gaze, he found himself sinking deeper, getting more comfortable. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to go in one of those hot springs in Greenland, where the water is really warm even though there's snow and cold wind all around it. Gabriel smiled, and Sam quietly marvelled at the way his eyes sparkled gold.

"If I'm honest, I never really thought you were. I just said that to piss off your brother."

Sam laughed, closing his eyes for a second. That second broke the spell, and he found he could look away again.

He also found that his hand was still on the archangel's shoulder. With a sudden, uncomfortable start, he backed off.

Gabriel noted the switch in tone, taking in Sam's suddenly uncomfortable movements with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Anyway, me and Hella are going to watch a movie, if you want to join us."

"What are you watching?"

"Thor." Gabriel grinned. "We want to see how much Marvel raped our culture."

"There's something sick and wrong about that."

Gabriel shrugged, making Sam laugh again.

"I should probably finish checking the perimeter first…"

Gabriel just snorted.

"Bet you five bucks I can check the perimeter, get back in and make popcorn before you could make it from here to the couch."

"Please."

"On your marks…"

"Gabriel, I'm not racing…"

"Get set…"

"This is ridiculous."

"G…" Gabriel vanished before he could even finish speaking, leaving Sam to make the mad dash back to the house. They both fell onto the couch at exactly the same time, although Gabriel blustered something about letting him win.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam had never seen a movie so thoroughly torn to shreds before. At one point, Bobby had given up and mentioned something about coaxing Dean out of his hermit cave with the promise of a bar, which left Sam at the mercy of Gabriel and Hella's running commentary. Sam's favourite lines included, but weren't limited to:

"_That is so not what Frost Giants look like. If they looked like that, I never would have gotten hot and heavy… uh… not that… I didn't love your mother on a… deep, spiritual level."_

"_Wait, is that guy supposed to be you? But he's tall… and vaguely attractive."_

"_Ok, Thor's not the sharpest knife in the block, but they could have credited him with some intelligence."_

"_Hey, douchebag! Stop listening to the Trickster!"_

And, Sam's personal favourite:

"_Oh wow… my name is now forever linked with two guys wrestling on a rainbow bridge… I feel dirty."_

Sam was wiping away tears of laughter from his eyes as the credits rolled. Gabriel checked his watch, and stretched.

"Wow, it's late. Thems what needs sleep should probably see to getting it."

Hella stifled a yawn, hugged her father, said goodnight to Sam and wandered off to her makeshift room. Sam thought he should probably do the same.

"See you tomorrow, Gabriel." Sam stretched, and froze midway through as he realised Gabriel was watching him. When he caught Gabriel's eye, the archangel smiled.

"Goodnight, Sam."

Feeling sufficiently weirded out to last at least a month, Sam went to bed.

Three hours later, he gave up trying to sleep. He had managed to doze for about ten minutes at a time, but not much else. Yawning, he shoved the covers aside and went downstairs in the vague hope that a glass of water would cure his insomnia. He heard a noise from the library, and was suddenly tense and alert, the fog of sleepiness overridden by ingrained hunter instinct. He continued down the stairs quietly, ears straining to hear any further sound. As he got closer, he realised what he was hearing was a conversation, quiet and oddly muffled.

He edged around the library door to see Gabriel sat on one of the couches by the window, with three ghostly figures on the floor in front of the desk. They were ignoring him, but he watched them with a great sadness in his eyes. A half empty bottle of beer in one hand, the other pressed to his lips, Gabriel looked so sad, so lonely. Sam remembered the look the archangel had given him when they trapped him in holy fire. Weak, desperate, betrayed… all tied together with an overwhelming sense of tired exasperation.

Who wants to live forever?

"You can give up the sneaky act, Sam, I heard you start downstairs."

"What?" Sam forced a laugh, in a vague attempt to brighten the situation. It was so unusual to see Gabriel so serious, so sombre, that he found it legitimately unsettling. He was fully prepared to be at the fate of the ex-Trickster's warped imagination if it meant he'd be on more familiar ground. "No stripper poles? No cream pies?"

Gabriel glanced away from the three ghostly figures, sparing Sam the briefest, most pitiful of looks, before resuming watching them. Sam balked slightly, his discomfort growing. He looked down at the ghostly figures and, for the first time, realised what he must be looking at.

"Hey, are those… Is that Hella?"

"Memories." Gabriel shrugged. "Illusions. It's a little easier on the mind to play them out in front of you. Staves off the crazy for a little while longer."

"She looks… how old was she?"

"About five." Gabriel flashed a warm, weak smile for a moment, watching as five year old Hella rough-housed with a young pup Fenrir who (although he looked very young) was already as big as she was. Jör, who looked slightly older, was in his human form, laughing with them. Gabriel sighed, as he watched Jör's body stretch and twist as the child morphed into what looked like a five foot long anaconda.

"Or the equivalent stage of development. She'd probably been alive for about a hundred years. You lose track of time, being an immortal deity."

Gabriel looked up at Sam, his eyes shining with a sort of nostalgic, bright sadness.

"This was before they got taken from us. Before the Valkyries came for them."

Realisation hit Sam with a heavy slap.

"So that's why Hella hates them so much?"

Boy did he feel like a dick.

Gabriel's lips twitched into a half smile.

"You should be asleep, Sam."

"I can't sleep." He shrugged it off, moving further into the room. "And besides, you look like you need company."

Gabriel huffed a bitter sounding laugh, before swigging at his beer. Sam was beginning to get quite worried now; He'd never known Gabriel to be so still and serious. He edged around the ghostly apparitions, and sat down next to the archangel, laying an awkward hand on his shoulder.

"Is this… is this about tomorrow?"

"I'm not talking about it. Go to sleep."

"Just… maybe it would help if you talked…"

"Sam, either go to sleep or I will put you to sleep. All the things I have to deal with right now, I don't need you on my conscience as well."

He stood and stalked off, walking straight through the illusions and causing them to instantly dissipate. Sam stood up, intent on following, but Gabriel disappeared, leaving Sam to scowl unhappily at the empty hallway. Why, or scratch that, _how _did he manage to surround himself with people who refused to give a straight answer about their own feelings?

Scratching his head, Sam got himself a drink of water and wandered back to bed, despising their group mentality.

(-*-)

They sat around the kitchen table in silence, Hella closest to the door, Dean next to her, and Bobby on the other side. Sam was stood leaning against the counter. When Gabriel appeared in the kitchen, it was obvious they'd been waiting for him.

"So?" Dean hadn't eaten. He had been too set on finally hearing this plan of Gabriel's. Hella had made herself some cereal, and Bobby and Sam had each attempted coffee and toast, but not gotten far. Anticipation was high.

Gabriel opened his mouth for a moment, looking like he was going to make a smart remark, before his eyes slid from Dean to Hella. He sighed, looking only slightly less weary than he had the night before.

"Ok…" He waved a hand, and the free chair at the kitchen table scraped itself across the floor to him. He sat down, leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees. "It's like this. Angels, as you all know, don't have a soul. They have their Grace, which is what connects them to each other and to Heaven… and their Self."

"Their Self?" Dean repeated, his patience already wearing thin.

"Their… personality, their mind… When angels fall, their Self and their Grace are separated. That's how you get fallen angels. It works the same way you had Sammy here wandering around without a soul all that time, although it's slightly different because there's a much more distinct line between Grace and Self than there is between soul and Self."

"Ok." Bobby nodded. "But what's this got to do with Cas?"

"I'm getting to it. You see, Castiel isn't God, not really. He's just the most powerful thing in creation."

"Oh yeah." Sam crossed his arms, watching Gabriel. "Just."

"It's not ideal, admittedly, but he's not God, which means he can be defeated."

"Yeah, you keep saying." Dean snapped, sounding about as rough as he looked. "How?"

"I can go up there, find Castiel, and…" Gabriel seemed very uncomfortable, and Sam got the feeling he really didn't want to be saying it at all. "I can tear his Self away from his Grace. That way, I can bring his Self down here, re-compose his favourite meat-suit and set him walking, while his Grace stays in Heaven and holds together all those monster souls."

"What happens to them?" Bobby was watching Gabriel like a hawk. Gabriel shrugged.

"Best case scenario, they lose their energy, dispel and eventually die. Worst case scenario… in a couple of centuries they might develop a tangible form or consciousness. They'll become a freaky new breed of monster, but one that will probably be mortal."

Hella was staring at Gabriel, an expression of curious confusion on her face.

"What's the catch?"

Gabriel shrugged, not meeting her eyes. This panicked her, and her voice rose as she repeated herself.

"You wouldn't have held off on telling us unless there was a problem, so what's the catch?"

Gabriel looked at the floor. Now everyone was catching Hella's panic.

"Gabriel?"  
>"I… I can't do it on my own. But none of you can come with me." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "To have enough power to rip Castiel apart like that… I'd need to be stronger. I'd need to…" He looked at the floor again, before practically kicking his chair over as he stood up. He looked at Hella with an expression of utter self-loathing, begging forgiveness before the words had even left his mouth.<p>

"I'd need to take Hella's Grace. If she survived it, she'd be weak, very weak, and the demons are still looking for her. So are the Valkyries, probably. I can't do it to her; I'm not doing it."

"Hey, now just wait." Dean stood too, his face set in anger. "Alright, so we all want Hella to be safe, but if there's a chance she could survive, then why not…"

"It's not just her. I could die, Dean. Hell, Castiel could die. Will, probably, die. Even if I can tear away the Self without killing it, even if I can drag it back down to Earth and settle it back in his old body, then what?" Gabriel glared at Dean, spots of red forming on his cheeks. "You think he's going to be happy like that? He coped so well with being cut off from the Host last time round, didn't he? And that was losing what little power he had then; imagine what this would do to him. Imagine how fucked up that would make him. Going from something that's damn near God, to being mortal? Human? I can't do it, Dean, I won't lose another brother, and I won't lose my daughter."

"We brought you back." Dean stood, facing Gabriel, their eyes locked. "We didn't ask whose side you were on, we didn't ask whether you'd be sticking around. We asked if you could bring Cas back, and you told us you could."

"Could." Gabriel snapped, staring out Dean with just as much rage. "Not will."

"You son of a bitch." Dean spat, shoving his chair back and looking like he was about to strangle Gabriel. "You cowardly chicken-shit, this is all…"

"Just stop it!" Hella shouted. The way Dean had been standing, he'd almost blocked her off from the rest of the room. Sam guiltily realised he'd almost forgotten she was there. She stood, fighting back tears as she shoved at Dean's arm, before running out into the back yard, her hands pressed to her face. Gabriel stared at Dean for a moment, before beginning to stalk past him, set on chasing after Hella.

"Woah." Sam grabbed his shoulder. "Maybe we should…"

Gabriel shrugged his hand away, turning an angry stare on him.

"Should what, Sam? Should wait for her to get picked off by demons? That's why they want her; they know I need her power to stand a snowball's chance of getting Castiel back. And they know she's my biggest weakness, ok? I'm not ready to lose her again."

"You don't get it, do you?" Sam made another grab at Gabriel's shoulder, staring from him to Dean. He kept his voice calm, even though the waves of anger and fear and power (oh dear God, the power) rolling off Gabriel were throwing everyone off course.

"It's not about either of you, or how you feel, or about Cas. It's about her, and her choice. She brought you back, and now she has to choose whether she's going to give you the power you need. So why don't the two of you just shut up and play nice. I'll go find her." He pushed into Gabriel, and to his surprise, the archangel stepped back, letting Sam go.

The back door slammed shut behind him, and he didn't hang around to hear whatever Bobby was about to say to reprimand Dean and Gabriel. He could already see Hella.

She was about twenty feet in front of him, leaning with her back against a rusted out Ford pickup. He was pressing her hands into her eyes, and as he got closer, he could hear her breathing, heavy and fractured as she held back tears.

"Hella?"  
>"It's… not… f-fair." She gasped, still struggling to hold back sobs. "I… c-can't… why me? Why… Why c-can't it just… work?"<p>

"Hey, uh…"

Sam Winchester faced monsters on a daily basis.

Sam Winchester had stared down the devil and come back from the dead.

Sam Winchester had no clue how to deal with crying girls.

"Look, it's… hey, don't… Uh… do you want a…" He rested his hand on her shoulder awkwardly, and she practically tumbled into his arms in her desperate need of a hug. Not for the first time, he really wished Ellen or Jo were still around. Heck, even Pamela. Just a female influence would be very helpful in times like these.

Her hands clenched in his sleeves as he wrapped his arms around her, trying not to be hysterically awkward as she cried into his chest.

"I just wanted him back, and I thought he'd help Castiel as a favour to you guys for looking after me, and I had it all planned out and it's not fair!" She drew a long, shuddering breath, her fingers twisting in the sleeves of Sam's shirt. "And now if I don't… if I don't die then… then he… or Castiel… and I don't know what's going on, I'm just the… I should have stayed in Hellheim, I… Jeg kan ikke miste ham igjen, kan jeg ikke være alene igjen, jeg bare ønsket alle å være lykkelig."

"Hella… whoa, Hella, I can't speak Norwegian." Sam pressed his hand to her head, concern lacing his features. Hella gazed up at him with tearstained eyes. Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"I don't want to be alone again."

Sam sighed, stepping away from the hug.

"Look, Hella… I know how much you love your Dad. And… well, I was pretty sure I'd killed him like… three times before he actually died. And now he's still alive. So if there's one person who'll make it out of this ok, it's Gabriel." He smiled; relieved to see she was smiling too. It was a small, tear-soaked smile, but it was there. "He's had to deal with a lot since he got back, and I think he's still coping with finding out that so many other angels are dead. I think he's… a lot more upset than he's letting on. But if he does this knowing he's got to keep you alive, then I think he'll have all the motivation he needs to do it right."

He shrugged, leaning against the pickup with her.

"I'm not saying you should do it. I'm not saying you shouldn't. I mean, believe me, I know how it feels to be the freak who suddenly has to make the important decisions. But… you're smart. And you're kind, and trusting. And don't ever tell him I said this, but your Dad is a good guy. I wouldn't let him risk his ass if I didn't think there was a chance he could pull it off."

Hella nodded, biting her lips as she tried to wrap her mind around all the information she had been given.

"I just… I need more time to think. I'm going to walk around… I'll stay in the auto-yard, don't worry, I just…"

Sam nodded, giving her another quick hug.

"I'll make sure they don't come looking."

"Thanks."

He turned back to face the house, and when he looked back, she had gone. He just hoped Dean and Gabriel had calmed down.


	15. Chapter 15

Gabriel stood by the door. Sam was pretty sure he'd seen, if not heard, the whole thing.

"Dean went for a drive." Gabriel said, before Sam could ask. "Or, that's what he shouted as he stormed out." He slumped, leaning against the side of the house. Sam stood in front of the door.

"She's not mad at you." He said, after a while. "She's just scared. I don't think she knew what she was letting herself in for."

Gabriel laughed, bitterly.

"Well, she did have a somewhat sheltered upbringing." He scuffed his foot on the ground, staring out in front of him. "So… back to being the runaway angel. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like."

Sam stared at Gabriel for a moment, before shaking his head and going inside. Gabriel followed him.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't turn back to look at Gabriel. He walked straight through the kitchen, and went for the stairs.

"What, Hella gets a motivational talk and I don't?"

"You don't need one, Gabriel." Sam snapped, without looking back. "It's Hella's choice. You're the one who stands the highest chance of not being around to deal with the consequences."

"Whoa, there, Sasquatch." Gabriel grabbed Sam's arm, holding him back. "Want to run that by me one more time?"

"How long have you known? About your supposed 'only course of action'?"

"Why?"

"Because." Sam glared down at him, struggling to free his arm. Gabriel wasn't letting go, and the archangel's strength meant Sam's arm stayed where it was at. "It seems you've been leading us along with some bogus story about you needing to heal, when actually it's just been another case of you being too afraid to do what's right."

"And you want me out there risking my ass and doing my duty." Gabriel scowled, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"No."

"That's what this is, right? Because that's what all the good little Winchester boys do."

"No!"

"Then what?"

"I… I just…"

"You just what?"

"I thought you'd changed!" Sam looked surprised and slightly embarrassed by the words, but he glared at his feet and committed to finishing the sentence. "I thought you were on our side, and you let me think that. You let everyone think that. But now it's the same as it ever was; you've gotten your kicks being on our side for a change, now things are getting serious and you can't deal with that. I'm sick of everyone playing games, so you know what? Go play your games elsewhere."

"Sam…" Gabriel looked at him with confusion and concern, trying to duck into his field of vision. "That's not what… I mean… I don't…"

"You do." Sam looked up at him, wondering exactly when and why he started caring about what Gabriel did, because it seemed now that he cared a great deal. "You always have, right? Toying with me and Dean, playing dress up as a pagan god, even dealing with your brothers; it's all a game to you. What was it that made you leave Heaven in the first place, huh? Being the messenger boy get too dull? How easily did you get bored?"

Gabriel's hand tightened on Sam's arm, so much that it started to hurt. Almost as soon as he did it, though, Gabriel seemed to realise, and relaxed his grip. That was the only part of him that did, though.

"I left heaven for my own damn reasons. And you're not one to talk, Sam."

"I know. Yeah, I get it. I ran away too, I tried to pretend to be what I'm not. And look where that got me." Sam pulled his arm away from Gabriel, and started up the stairs. "I'm fucked up, even for a hunter. You'd think someone who'd been around as long as you would give up on deluding themselves, but no. You still think you can just hop from one life to the next and it'll be fine."

"Well why do you care?" Gabriel didn't follow Sam upstairs. He looked like he was forcing himself to remain calm, and he wasn't succeeding. "What's it to you?"

"Gabriel, you can do whatever the hell you want." Sam stopped, shooting one last glance at the archangel. "But I thought you'd changed, and if a god-damned Archangel doesn't know any better, then what kind of hope do I have?"

He slammed the door to his room, anger rushing around his head, along with confusion, and the sudden pressing fear that Gabriel might appear in his room, or… or that he might leave.

Whatever, Sam thought, grabbing his knife (it wasn't Ruby's any more, dammit). He dug the knife into his finger and drew the anti-angel symbol on the back of the door. He didn't care. Gabriel could go do whatever and whoever he wanted, Sam thought, swallowing down the crazy mixed up emotions like hot coal. He sat down, leaning against the door, elbows on his drawn up knees.

After a while, he managed to calm down. Was that all true? Had everything he'd said been true? It must have been, although he hadn't known he felt that way. He looked over at the clock beside his bed, and sighed. It wasn't even ten a.m., and already he felt like throwing the covers over his head and trying again tomorrow. He took another deep breath, exhaling with a sigh. It helped. It helped clear his head.

So, he gave a shit about whether Gabriel was going to live or die.

So, he saw Gabriel as some emblem of hope that he might be able to fix whatever his years of denial had done to him.

So, when Gabriel announced to them all that his plan was little better than a kamikaze mission, he felt personally betrayed.

So, what did that mean? He had a pretty good idea.

Beside him, something slipped under the door frame. He looked down to see a bright red greetings card, with a watercolour-style picture of two old fashioned race cars to the side of a cheery message.

It read "Sorry for being a self-centred douchewad".

Inside, cursive hand writing spelled out the words _"My bad. I'd apologise in person, but I get the feeling you don't want to talk to me, since when I tried popping into your room, I got the celestial wavelength equivalent of a boot to the gonads. I get why you're mad, Sam, and you're right. If you want to talk about it, I'm not going anywhere. Gabriel. P.S, wouldn't it be awesome if they actually made cards like this?"_

Sam shook his head, allowing a small smile, before putting the card on his dresser. He'd talk to Gabriel, eventually. He just needed some space right now.

(-*-)

Bobby had sold it to them when, later that day, Sam and Dean had been moping in the library. Gabriel had said something about going to visit Jörmungandr, since it might be the last chance he had. No one had tried to stop him. Sam was still trying to wrap his brain around the concept of caring so much about what Gabriel did (getting Gabriel out of the way so he could be thought of as a concept rather than an actual person helped a lot), and Dean was just generally moping. Hella hadn't come back yet.

Bobby was sat behind his desk, reading, and pointedly ignoring both of them. Dean broke the silence.

"You think I pushed him to it?"

Sam looked up, dragged out of his own thoughts.

"What?"

"Cas. I shouldn't have treated him so bad. D'you think it's my fault?"

"Oh, dear lord." Bobby shut his book, staring incredulously at Dean. "Are you freakin' kidding me, boy? This is the first time since you two took over from your Dad that the world's in trouble and one of you didn't cause it, and now you're asking if it's your _fault_? What in the… You know, I pray we never go dream walking again, because I'd hate to see the inside of your head."

"What?" Dean sat up, defensive. "You don't know Cas like I do… when he…"

"No, I don't." Bobby agreed. "But since I actually pay attention to what he's doing, rather than just staring into his baby blues, I'd say in some respects I've probably got a better handle on him than you do. He's hardly the poster boy for sane and rational decisions, Dean."

Dean looked like he'd been slapped in the face. Sam would have found it funny if it wasn't so crushingly awkward.

"Think about it. He's been brainwashed and deprogrammed so many times we may as well slap some sort of meter on him. He has gone from blindly believing in the orders of other angels, to blindly believing in God's will, to blindly believing in you, and each time his brain's written cheques reality can't cash."

"Yeah…" Dean blustered. "But… that doesn't mean he's crazy or anything…"

"Dean, when Michael and the God Squad started to convince you to say yes, he _took you to some back alley_ and beat the _shit_ out of you. Hell, we still don't even know for sure that the Castiel who went into the Apocalypse was the same Castiel who came back."

Dean stood up at this, glaring at Bobby like he was actually considering hitting the older man.

"You don't talk about him that way!"

"Then don't talk about yourself that way!" Bobby glared back, standing up. He was shorter than Dean, sure, but he had a whole level of authority behind him that Dean could never pull. "You know what, get out of my house, both of you. I'm sick of your sorry asses bringing the mood down. There's a hunt going on ten miles east that could use some help. Nest of vampires; guy in charge is called Raymond, he drives a yellow Mustang."

Sam and Dean stared at Bobby. He stared back.

"Well go on, get!"

That was how they had ended up, five hours later, wiping blood and god-knows-what else off themselves before they got back in the Impala. They waved to Raymond as he drove past in his yellow Mustang, before standing in silence.

"Beer?"

"You know it."

Dean grabbed two bottles from the trunk, giving one to Sam. He sighed, and leant against the car. His sigh turned into a weary chuckle, and he looked up at Sam.

"So… you thought Bobby's freak out earlier was really funny too, right?"

"Dude, it was hilarious!" Sam was so glad he'd finally said it. "I haven't seen him freak like that since we were kids."

"Yeah…" Dean laughed again, his brow furrowed. "We can't have been easy for him to deal with, huh?"

"You really think we're any better now?"

Dean grinned, shooting Sam a wink. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean looked happier than he had done in a long time, probably due to the adrenaline of the hunt still pumping through his system. It killed Sam to drag everything down again but…

"Hey, Dean… You think maybe there's another reason you feel bad about Cas going, uh… About Cas?"

Dean looked at him. It was not an impressed look. It was a "You're treading on thin ice so be very careful what your next words are" look. Sam shrugged.

"I just… I mean, you trusted Cas. Maybe… maybe a lot more than you'd trusted anyone in a while, right?"

Grudgingly, Dean nodded. Sam continued.

"Maybe even me?"

Dean paused, cleared his throat and turned away, not meeting Sam's eyes. So, 'yes', then.

"I'm not accusing, Dean, I'm just saying. I mean, you said yourself Cas was practically family. So I get that you care about him. Bobby does too, and we're both ok with that. I'm just thinking that… maybe you feel so bad because you're only just realising now how much he meant. Which we're also both ok with."

Dean nodded, staring at the ground. He carried on drinking his beer, and said nothing. It was worse than if he'd yelled or denied or ridiculed, because it was a silence that was almost ashamed of itself. When Dean eventually finished his beer, he dropped the empty bottle in the trunk.

"If we do get Cas back…" Dean moved around to the driver's side, just catching Sam's eye, "I'm going to have a lot I want to say to him."

"Ok." Sam nodded. Dean looked away again.

"Thanks."

"Don't sweat it."

He slipped into the passenger side as Dean sat behind the wheel, and they started on their way back to Bobby's. Sam laughed.

"Hey, guess who got Gabriel to use the words 'sorry for being a douchewad'?"

"No way!" Dean laughed, and Sam explained the tale of the card. Well, the edited highlights; there was no sense in telling Dean _everything._ Although, judging by the looks he gave Sam as they pulled up outside Bobby's he might have figured out what Sam was avidly denying right now. When they got inside, Sam was so busy fervently wallowing in denial that he almost missed the sight of the three course meal in the kitchen. Gabriel stood back, looking a little awkward.

"So, it has been brought to my attention that my behaviour has been… uh…" He fidgeted. Bobby, who was stood by the back door, raised an eyebrow at Gabriel.

"Dickish?" He supplied. Gabriel nodded.

"I was going for self-involved, but that works too. I can't help it; it's kind of an innate thing with angels. But, hey, look who I'm telling."

"Gabriel." Sam bitch-faced, as Dean shrugged off his jacket. "You can't keep trying to buy us off with food every time you mess up."

"Speak for yourself." Dean sauntered into the kitchen, pulling up a chair. "A few more meals that taste nice and don't have any unexpected surprises, I might even trust him."

"Gee thanks." Gabriel sighed, before looking imploringly at Sam. "Look, this whole… considerate… 'teamwork' thing is still new to me. I messed up, ok? I should have told you sooner, but I was worried Hella would… do exactly what she's done."

"What's she done?" Sam walked over to the table, sitting next to Dean, who was already happily eating.

"She's taken herself off the map. I can sense her just enough to know she's still inside the perimeter of the salvage yard, but I can't get a proper trace on her."

"Is she alright?" Sam's brow laced in concern. "I mean, I know I said I'd stop you from looking for her too much, but… she can't have eaten all day."

"She doesn't need to. Not really." Gabriel shrugged. "She tends to eat and sleep just to break up the monotony of the day. Like me." He looked at Sam, curious confusion on his face. "Wait, you said you'd stop me?"

"When I was talking to her this morning." Sam nodded, looking a little awkward. "She wanted some alone time, so I said I'd make sure you didn't go chasing after her."

"Huh." Gabriel watched Sam carefully, before sighing. "It's no good, Sammy. We have to be consistent with her."

Sam narrowed his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Gabriel just grinned.

"Tsk. That's the problem with single guys; you all think you can just breeze in and be the awesome step-dad."

Boy had Sam chosen a bad time to take a drink. He choked on his water while Gabriel disappeared and Dean laughed into his food.

Bobby realised he was starting to miss having no one around.


	16. Chapter 16

Whatever Dean was dealing with, Sam knew he had to deal with it on his own. Which helped a little, since he had enough to worry about. Sam cast a glance over to the collection of empty bottles that sat on the floor in front of his bed. He wasn't drunk. Not really. He was just… ineberated. Inberiated. Something like that. He'd drunk enough to finally let the prayer leave his mouth.

"Gabriel." He muttered, the night thick and heavy around him. There wasn't even a breeze; the air just hung quiet and still, passively suffocating the hunter. He longed for the days when he used to sleep. "Gabriel, I know you can hear me. Please?"

There was a flutter of wings, briefly disturbing the stagnant air. Gabriel looked around Sam's room.

"Nice. Twelve year old chic."

"I need to talk with you." It was one in the morning, but Sam was still fully dressed. He hadn't had time for sleep. He'd been too busy drinking. The house was still and silent around them, forcing him to whisper. He needed this moment, just the two of them, no interruptions.

"What's on your mind, bucko?"

"Drop it." Sam sighed, weary and frustrated and feeling far too suffocated by the lack of airflow to put up with Gabriel's performance. "Drop the act. I don't want to talk to Loki; I want to talk to Gabriel."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes for a moment, but nodded slowly, straightening up.

"What do you want?"

"If you're going to say no…" Sam watched Gabriel carefully, his eyes still adjusting to the dark, and not at all swimming with the alcohol he totally wasn't that drunk on. "When Hella comes back, if you're not going to do this, then I think you should leave now. It's not fair on her, to make her go through all this and then turn her down. So if you're going to say no, you should leave now."  
>Gabriel didn't move. He watched Sam carefully.<p>

"Is that it?"

"What do you mean?"

Gabriel shrugged.

"It's a fair point, and I see why you would make it. But… My business with Hella seems to be a matter of great concern for you, Sam. Is there some other reason you're giving me the ol' 'shape up or ship out'?"

Sam stared at him, his mouth suddenly very dry. It was the air, the lack of air.

"I just… I'm fed up of people lying to me. To us. People are always lying, promising one thing and doing another. I'm tired of it."

"I know you are, Sam." Gabriel stepped towards him, his eyes soft with concern. "I'm not going to back down this time. I'm not." He rested a cautious had on Sam's arm, locking eyes with him. "See, people like us… the runaways, the disappointments… we can make it right. But it's harder for us. No one's going to help us, or do it for us. If people like us want change, we have to work. And myself, I've always been more a fan of play."

Sam looked down at Gabriel, very aware of how close they were, and how his throat wasn't getting any less dry. He felt like the world was dipping and folding around him; it was because of the lack of airflow, he kept reminding himself.

"I've always run away before now. You're right. But I'm different now, I've made my stand. I'm a good guy now."

Almost without being aware of it, he took Gabriel's hand away from his arm and held it.

"You can see the future, right?"

"Sometimes."

Were they whispering? The noise was oddly muffled in Sam's ears, and he wasn't sure whether his brain was playing tricks on him. He felt kind of like a large part of his brain was no longer turned on, what with the dry throat and the world dipping out around him and he was so close to Gabriel and damn the lack of airflow.

"Can you see what will happen?"

"I can see what's most likely to happen. It can change, though." Gabriel smiled. It was a weak, shaky smile, but a genuine one. "You know, just as I stood up to Lucifer, the last thing I saw before I died… I saw the future. I saw Dean and Castiel in the world after the Apocalypse. I saw you going down into the cage. Sam…"

"Don't talk about that." Sam swallowed, wishing his head would stop spinning. The last thing he wanted to hear right now was Gabriel whispering sympathies about the Pit. He looked into Gabriel's eyes, seeing so many different emotions flicker through them. "Can you see… will you be alright?"

Gabriel sighed, his hands wrapping around Sam's.

"Honestly? I've got nothing. I can't see anything."

"So… if Hella comes back tomorrow, this could be your last ever last night on Earth." Sam tried for a smile, but it was weak. Gabriel returned it though, his smile filling Sam with a kind of warmth and hope, and the unbelievably powerful sense that he didn't want Gabriel to go. He had seen it before, the briefest glimpse of it, sympathy, empathy and comprehension, when he had tracked Gabriel down at the Mystery Spot. But now it wasn't masked with sadism or disinterest. This wasn't Gabriel pretending to be anything other than what he was; It was pure, and right there, and it told him that maybe, just maybe, things could be ok.

"I don't…" Gabriel started, but he was cut off when Sam leaned in and kissed him, gently, carefully. It should have been wrong. Sam had never gone for guys before, save a brief experimental phase between high school and college. But Gabriel was so much more than some guy.

The archangel pulled away, fixing Sam with a sad, curious look.

"You should only do this if you really want it."

He wanted it. He knew that much. Being with Gabriel, talking to Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel… it was all he'd been able to think of. He couldn't say how long he'd want it for, or how much he'd regret it come morning, but that wasn't the part that mattered, not right now. He knew he wanted it. He just didn't know what it meant.

"Tonight." Sam muttered, pulling Gabriel closer. "Just for tonight."

Gabriel nodded, running a hand through Sam's hair.

"I can do that. For you."

(-*-)

Hella stood in the kitchen, her face and her mind set. She had wandered, hidden, through the junk yard, feeling the sense of sadness she could pick up on the old abandoned cars. They were carcasses, carrying with them the ghosts of better times. She had thought about everything and nothing. And now she stood in Bobby's kitchen, waiting for everyone to make their way downstairs.

Bobby was first. When he saw Hella, he briefly blinked in surprise and relief, before asking if she wanted any breakfast and acting as if nothing had happened. She appreciated it.

Then came Dean, who smiled at her, mumbled a "you had us worried", and clapped her on the arm. She was touched by it.

Gabriel appeared next, a curious expression on his face, only for a moment, as it washed away when he saw his daughter. He hugged her. She asked him to stand back, because she needed space if her mind was going to work clearly. Gabriel backed off respectfully.

Finally, Sam joined them, looking like he was still half asleep. He smiled when he saw Hella, but he stopped and leant just inside the kitchen door. While everyone watched her with anticipation, Sam watched with something closer to dread. For a moment, she considered asking him what was wrong, but she had more important things to discuss.

"Do it." She turned to her father, with a grim smile of determination. "I'm ready." Gabriel blinked at her for a moment, before pulling her into another hug. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his eyes closed. It had taken Hella so much strength to say those four words, and now Gabriel rewarded her with such love and approval that you could almost forget they had spent fifty years apart.

Sam watched the archangel with a heavy heart.

They would tell no one about last night. It never happened. Now Gabriel would go off and do his ridiculous, suicide mission, and eventually, Sam would start believing his own lie. His head still ached from the hangover that had delighted in punching him awake, and now, having Gabriel taken away from him before they'd even managed to talk…

"And…" Hella pulled back from the hug, glancing around at Sam and Bobby, fixing Dean with a brief stare, before looking up at Gabriel, her face the epitome of honesty. "When you bring Castiel back. I want you to put my grace in him."

Gabriel blinked at her, running a hand over her hair.

"Hella, sweetie, no. That… I can't do that."

"You can." She nodded. "And you should. Castiel, like you said… he won't be happy as a human, right? Put my grace in him."

Gabriel seemed stumped for a moment, and looked to the others for help. He looked to Sam.

Sam said nothing, watching the scene unfold before him with quiet despair, wishing for all the world he could just put up a wall and detach himself from it. He didn't know what he was supposed to say; he didn't know what he could add to this situation. It was Dean who broke the silence.

"No. Cas… he'll understand. This is a consequence of his actions. I'll… I'll make sure he sees it that way."

Gabriel turned to Dean, giving him the sort of look that angels were supposed to give; one that rewarded penitence and calmed worry. It wasn't as powerful as the looks Sam had seen though, the looks Gabriel had kept just for him.

Hella looked from Dean to her father, giving the latter another hug. Gabriel let out a breath, and nodded. He looked slightly shaken, as the reality of his agreement hit him.

"Ok. Looks like I've got an angel to catch… I'm trusting you boys to look after my daughter as well as you look after yourselves. Better, in fact, given the tendencies for self-medication."

Sam nodded, before leaving the kitchen. He couldn't see it happen. He couldn't watch Gabriel tear his daughter's grace out, he couldn't watch Gabriel leave. It was just too much. Air. He needed air.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled, as he strode into the back yard, feeling the cold air clear his head and calm his heart. He knew Gabriel could hear him. "I can't watch you do this. You should. Of course, but… don't make me watch. Just… be safe."

"I know." Gabriel's voice was strong and clear in his mind, making him jump. "Thank you, Sam. You are loved."

Sam stared over the scrap yard, trying to stop his breath from catching in his chest.

How was this his life now?

Seriously.

"Sammy." Dean slammed through the door, clapping his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Gabriel's given us an address. Apparently, he had to take Hella some place no one will see it happen, freaky angels and blinding lights. He says by the time we drive there… You ok?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed, shaking his head. "We got time for breakfast?"

"Gabriel left us some in the kitchen." Dean gave him a suspicious glance. "Seriously. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just… slept weird." Sam shrugged, forcing a smile as he started back to the kitchen.

(-*-)

Gabriel held his daughter's hand. It was a secluded spot, no roads, no travellers. Just soft desert sand as far as the eye could see. He would take his daughter's grace here, with the soft peaks of sand being slowly pulled by the wind in an eternally shifting landscape.

When he got back, if he got back, he would show her the wonders of the world, and tell her the stories behind them. He would take her all around the universe, if it made her smile.

He fought against his paternal side, which screamed at him not to do this, he couldn't do this to his little girl…

He cleared his throat, gripping her hand.

"I need you to lie down, Hella."

She looked at him with eyes so warm, so trusting… When Sam and Dean had first met him, they'd thought he was a monster. He'd seen them look at him like he was a monster, and it had taken them two tries to get him to stop hiding behind that mask.

His daughter, however, just had to look at him with those calm, trusting eyes and she could make him feel like the most hideous monster to ever exist. She nodded, and lay on the sand. Gabriel struggled to remain in control.

"What's going to happen is… I'm going to put you to sleep, and when you wake up, you'll be either in a motel or with Sam and Dean. They'll keep you safe, ok?"

Hella nodded, concern gracing her features as her father fought against the urge to hold her tight and snap them both someplace else. He smiled, or he hoped he did.

"Now… this is going to hurt, sweetie. It'll hurt a lot less if you're asleep, but… it's still going to hurt. For a few days, maybe. I'm sorry, Hella, I wish I could make it so it didn't hurt…"

She gripped his hand, staring up at him.

"It's ok."

"You've been through so much already, I can't…"

"It's ok." She repeated, and smiled at him. "I'll always want you to come back."

Gabriel nodded, taking a deep breath. He brushed two fingers across Hella's forehead, watching as she drifted from consciousness. Placing a hand on her stomach, he steeled himself for the hurt he was about to do both of them.

Blinding light.

Burning heat.

Hella writhed and twitched in agony, her mouth forming wordless screams.

For a moment, they were both like bolts of lightning.

Then, they were gone. The scorched black the only signs they were ever there, slowly being covered by the eternally shifting, wind-whipped sands.


	17. Announcement

Drama!

Due to failure regarding internet access, these stories will be on hold/slow to update until August. Very sorry to leave you all hanging, but I promise that the updates you do eventually get will be as worth it as I can make them!

Thanks for reading and reviewing, and watch this space…

Mimm


	18. Chapter 17

**Author's note: To make up for the longer-than-usual absence of updates, have a longer-than-usual chapter! Now I am returned to the internets, updates will be occurring at the usual pace.**

**(-*-)**

Sam and Dean drove in silence, only glancing up occasionally to remark on the sudden change in the weather. Where it had been cool and crisp, it was now humid and overcast, with dark clouds swarming overhead that threatened a powerful storm.

"You think it's because of…"

"Probably."  
>Dean was thinking too much about Castiel to press the point, and Sam was too busy trying not to think about a certain archangel. It was one night. That's all it had been, that's all it would be.<p>

So why couldn't he stop feeling like someone had punched him in the lungs? His chest ached, his breathing wouldn't steady, and he had that horrible, winded sense of disconnection, or perhaps over-connection, where he found himself suddenly thrown into perspective. One tiny human, trying to hold on to something… some_one_, so much bigger, so much more powerful, so utterly "other"… He just had to make things difficult for himself, didn't he?

When they got to the motel, they found Hella curled under layers of blankets, shivering and unconscious. The rain had started to pour down, coupled with winds that threatened to tear the windows out of their frames.

No sense in driving back to Bobby's now.

They would stay here, tonight.

(-*-)

Hella slept for twenty four hours. Sam slept for three.

When he did sleep, he was plagued with visions, half memories and half dreams. The place without place he thought he had left behind, Gabriel being thrown down into the burning, boiling depths and Sam, nothing more than a spirit, powerless to stop the archangel's defeat. Sometimes, he thought he might be seeing through Gabriel's eyes; something burning and shimmering, like a comet, too bright and too vast for him to fully comprehend, crashing into every known point of existence. After waking up from that three times, Sam gave up on sleeping all together.

They took Hella back to Bobby's while she was still asleep the next morning, and Sam carried her carefully to her room. He set her on the bed and pulled the blanket around her, making sure she wasn't cold. As he brushed her hair out of her eyes, he saw a lot of her father in her. He stepped back, finding that the revelation made it that much harder to care for her, and yet made him feel like it was his duty. He didn't want to sit with her, to watch that pained expression ghost across her features, but he couldn't trust anyone else to do it, either.

When she woke, the dawn just spreading across the sky, his was the face she saw as he sat by the bed, weary and sad. She rested her hand on his.

"Is he…"

"We haven't heard anything." Sam tried not to sound as pathetic as he felt, seeing Hella's eyes shine as she watched him.

"Then you should be happy." Hella smiled. "There's hope."

"Yeah." Sam sighed, patting her hand. He wanted to tell her that no matter what happened, she would be welcome to stay with him. Even without this 'whatever' he was feeling towards Gabriel, he had found himself caring quite deeply for Hella. He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.

Instead, he tried to smile at her as he asked "Want anything to eat?"

He helped her downstairs, and they sat in silence for a while, nerves on high alert. Every question Hella wanted to ask was warned against before she could say it. Sam didn't want to talk about it, not just yet, and he said as much in his tense shoulders, his cold eyes. After a while, they turned on the TV that Gabriel had left behind, watching some action movie. Neither of them was really paying attention.

As long as the TV was there, it meant Gabriel was still alive, somewhere.

(-*-)

"Boys." Bobby pocketed his cell phone, discomfort on his face. "We're going to have to go help some people. I've been getting calls from just about every hunter I know asking if I'm in the area to back them up. Apparently, every monster on Earth has gone plum loco."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, before nodding.

"We can do that." They both stood, shrugging on jackets and picking up the few weapons that had been taken from the Impala.

Hella looked up.  
>"I want to help…"<p>

"It's too dangerous." Sam shook his head. "You're still weak."

"But I still have Famine, see?" She reached into her boot and produced the dagger, that same weary smile on her face that Sam had seen before they started meeting her brothers. "I made sure I had it before Dad took my grace."

Sam and Dean looked to Bobby, who shrugged.

"It's that or leave her here, and given how messed up some of these reports I've been getting are, I'd say there are a few creeps that wouldn't have sense to steer clear of the warding signs."

Sam sighed, but conceded. He gripped Hella's shoulder.

"Stay tight to us. Do exactly what we say, when we say it, and don't try to be a hero."

"Yeah, right." Hella laughed, her gloomy eyes making it seem bittersweet. "No problem there."

(-*-)

The sky boiled.

The storm hadn't shifted in the past week, and though the rain and lightning would occasionally stop, the clouds never moved. The sky was black with them, as far as the eye could see, and light danced above and below, the vapour becoming liquid and steam so fast it was throwing weather predictions for a loop.

Sam let a shiver pass through him as he looked up at the tumultuous sky, remembering the last time he had seen chaos like that. He remembered feeling Gabriel's grace pass through him, realising now that it had been a silent promise, a blessing; an oath that Sam would never have to see those horrors again.

Liar.

"Dude." Dean was not impressed. "Are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there staring?"

"Sorry." Sam grabbed the other bag and helped his brother carry everything from the Impala to their motel room. Hella was already up there. If the past week of hunts had taught them anything, it was that Hella was best left indoors, away from any monster. She was like catnip to the supernatural creeps, attracting three separate Demon attacks, two ghosts and the unwanted attentions of an entire coven of witches. Dean had snapped at her after that one, telling her that unless they wanted live bait, she was more trouble than she was worth. But then again, she more than made up for it with her mad ability to research. Even Sam had to admit that the speed she could read at and the vast amounts of information her brain could store was ludicrous, but Dean just laughed and said he was jealous because Hella managed to do it without coming off like a massive geek.

When they got up to the motel room, she was working her way through some particularly dense –looking leather-bound tome.

"Who wants to go get dinner?" said Dean, the implication being that Sam had better say yes. Sam sighed, but turned to leave again, not seeing the point in arguing. He could do with some thinking space anyway.

"I'll go with you." Hella looked up from her book, and Sam couldn't refuse her, as much as he wanted to. He sighed again, but motioned for her to walk with him. They aimed vaguely for the 7/11 they had seen at the other end of the street. Hella nudged Sam.

"So what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged. He wasn't going to tell Hella about what was currently going on in his mind, or the night with her father that caused it, but he supposed there was no harm reassuring her.

"I just… I wish we could know how he's doing."

"They look like they're fighting it out." Hella said, glancing skyward. "I think he's doing ok though."

"How can you tell?"

"I just… know." Hella shrugged, smiling up at Sam as they entered the shop. "He can look after himself."

And didn't Sam know it?

They grabbed some microwave meals and a few bars of chocolate for dessert, and Sam dropped them all on the counter, thanking the bored-looking girl behind the desk. They were half way to the door when Hella suddenly let out a gasp and crumpled to the floor. Sam fell to his knees and helped her up, but it seemed that whatever had come over her left as soon as it started.

"Go." She muttered, pushing Sam's arm. "We've got to go."

Suddenly, Sam felt it too, although he couldn't say whether it was because of Hella or not. A sense of dread, excitement and impending pain seemed to hit him like a train, and he reeled for a moment before grabbing the shopping bag in one hand, and Hella's arm in the other. They ran back towards the motel.

(-*-)

Along the eastern seaboard, the wild storms were doing wonders for the few fishermen mad enough to set sail. The ones who returned told of fish actually leaping into the boats, and huge shoals heading straight for the nets. If you were brave or stupid enough to face the iron-grey tides, you could fill a month's quota.

Jörmungandr, or Jör as he was known to the locals (he had told them it was short for Jössef, and no one had cared enough to question it) wasn't so amused.

He sat outside his tourist trap of a shop, feeling the rain against his face, watching the riotous sky with a dull sense of dread. The rain slicked his hair to his forehead, running down his neck and pooling in the saturated cotton of his hoody. Jör could read the rain in a way the local mortals couldn't.

He felt the rain drumming against his skin, and could hear in every raindrop a fraction of a sound. A clashing, crying sound; the screams of combat. Two armies… no, two figures, two beings as strong as armies, trying to tear each other apart. Gods? Angels? They had been, once. One of them sounded all too familiar, and as many years as it had been since they'd really spent any time together, Jör felt his heart rise in his throat as he pushed the thought aside. He focused on the other, instead.

It wasn't an angel. It wasn't a God.

It was something… other, something abhorrent, acting out of desperation, fear, loneliness… but it was strong. Like a rabid dog, it had no sense of preservation, and it would just keep attacking until its adversary was dead.

Jör closed his eyes, letting the rain tell him, letting it show him. He kicked off his sneakers, and leapt down off the seafront, the tides instantly covering the beaten brown sand beneath his feet. For every fraction of a picture the raindrops gave him, he heard in the sea a note of sound. Between the sea and the sky, Jör communed with the water, coaxing nature's story out of it.

His father had visited, briefly, since his reincarnation. It had been awkward, stilted, and more for Hella's benefit than anything, but Jör had seen in his father many things he thought he never would.

Humility, for one, as he apologised for Jör's treatment. There was modesty there, genuine emotion, and love. His father had finally stopped lying, it seemed. It was a good, honest thing he was doing, taking all that he cared about from his life as Loki, and trying to piece them into his life as Gabriel.

Now here he was, for the first time in centuries, taking on the mantle of heavenly defender.

Jör was a little proud of his father.

He wandered back towards the front of his store, feet shuffling into sneakers as he did. He took his keys from his pocket, locked up the shop, and left. If this storm was driving other animals as wild as it was driving the fish, he wanted to make sure Fen was alright. First though, he would stop once more, and visit his tree.

He had found, a few years ago, a beautiful cherry tree growing by the side of the road, and he had decided that it needed his care. When he'd found out about his father's death in some skeezy motel, he had wanted to do something. The blossoms were long gone from his roadside tree, of course, but Jör hoped the tree in the motel had grown a little better.

(-*-)

When Hella and Sam got back to the motel room, they found Dean, shocked and pale, staring at the couch. He was gripping the table, trying to hold himself up, and seemed to be in the middle of some sort of silent scream. As he came further into the room, Sam saw why.

On the couch, a smoke-like form was materialising. It was the body that had once belonged to Jimmy Novak, and more recently to Castiel, and it was becoming more real and more solid all the time. Dean croaked.

"Sam…"

"Dean. I'm here, It's… it's ok."

"Is that…"

"Yeah, I see it too. It's ok, Dean, I think it just means that Gabriel's going to… everything's going to be ok, Dean."

Hella had run over to the body, and was examining it closely.

"We're going to need another room." She smiled, nervous but strong. "The body will take a while to reform, and I doubt either of you will want to sleep in here with it."

Dean nodded, slowly turning his head away from the horrifying sight. He and Sam went to the lobby to ask for another room, the sense of mild horror at least managing to block out the roar of the storm for a little while.

(-*-)

By the next morning, Sam and Dean were back in the original motel room, staring at what was essentially a dead body on their couch. Dean seemed seriously unnerved. They weren't analysing. Weren't looking for marks or testing how it reacted to anything. They were just… staring at it.

When the empty vessel of your ally-turned-friend-turned psychopath materialised on the cheap couch of your motel, there wasn't much else you could do.

Sam's phone rang, startling all of them. He tore his attention away from the inert body, feeling slightly off-kilter.

"Hi?"

"Sam? It's Jör. May I speak with Hella?"  
>"Oh… uh, yeah, hang on." Sam held the phone out to her, and she took it, confused. She spoke in Norwegian, and Sam got the distinct impression she was doing it so she wouldn't be overheard. She stopped soon enough though, and although Sam didn't know the meaning of the words, the tone spoke universally for "no, hang on, I'm losing signal".<p>

"What?" She tried, shouting over noise that only she could hear. A sudden piercing shriek of feedback caused her to hold the phone at arm's length. It was at that moment the TV and radio both turned on, picking up static. Dean stared around slowly, seeming to struggle towards a distant memory. Eventually, realisation dawned.

"Oh, shit… Get on the ground! Cover your ears!"

Even as he spoke, the static was getting louder, taking on a shrill, piercing tone that never ended. Sam and Hella did as they were told; feeling the noise vibrate through them, through their heads and chests… the TV broke. Windows smashed themselves.

Sam wasn't sure if he heard Hella screaming at them to close their eyes, or if he did it out of instinct, because the noise was so loud, so unbearable… Even through his screwed tight eyelids, he could see the change in light, taking everything from black to pink to white, and leaving blurs of little orange hexagons on his vision.

The noise stopped.

Slowly, heart still thudding around his ribcage and brain trying to turn itself right-side-up again, he got to his feet. His vision was blurred and spotty, but it cleared enough for him to see Dean and Hella do the same.

The walls were blackened, and in some places burnt back to the wood panelling, as was the floor. In the centre of the circle of destruction stood Gabriel, hunched over the now breathing (but otherwise motionless) form of Castiel. Gabriel's shoulders slumped, and when he looked up at them, Sam had to bite back a gasp.

Gabriel was gaunt and weak; his skin was grey where it wasn't covered with blood and sweat. His cheeks puffed red and purple, and he looked like he had several broken bones. Blood trickled down his neck, leaking from a deep cut which stretched from his crown to just below his left, blood-filled eye. He flashed a weak smile at them, before staggering backwards into an arm chair. Hella ran to him, wanting to embrace but knowing she would probably hurt him if she did.

"Save it for later, kid." Gabriel smiled at her, closing his eyes. His voice was a hoarse, trembling wheeze, and the sound of it gave Sam a new burst of that punched-in-the-lungs feeling he'd been trying to ignore.

Gabriel lifted a weary, trembling hand and placed it on Hella's forehead.

"Y'all might want to close your eyes."

There was another blinding flash of light, and Hella found herself restored. Gabriel gave her a very weak, shaky smile, before his head fell back against the chair and he joined Castiel in the land of unconsciousness. Dean knelt by Castiel's head, looking like he was still in shock. Cautiously, he touched Castiel's hand, as if unsure how it would react. When Castiel reacted like any other unconscious body (i.e., he didn't), Dean seemed to swallow away whatever doubt or fear he had, and began checking Castiel's pulse and temperature. Unconscious and mortal, he could deal with.

Sam just staggered over to the bed, feeling utterly helpless as Hella gingerly pressed her hands to Gabriel's forehead, eyes the only part of her that betrayed her panic as she desperately tried to heal him.

(-*-)

It took three hours for Hella to heal her father, and when she did, he smoothed a hand over her head before hugging her in thanks. It had taken a lot out of her, and he whispered something to her in what Sam thought was Norwegian. She nodded, hugged him again and kissed his cheek, before stumbling over to lie down on one of the motel's beds. As she did, Castiel groaned and moved on the couch, stirring in his sleep. Dean pressed a cold washcloth to his head, watching him intently. In the three hours since they had returned, Dean had spared Gabriel only the briefest of glances.

Gabriel watched them for a moment, before clearing his throat and struggling to his feet.

"I need some air. Sam, walk with me?"

Sam blushed, opening his mouth to protest, but Gabriel was already taking him by his elbow.

"Please?"

"…Ok."

The night was dark around them, the air so cold Sam felt the hair on his arms instantly prickle. Gabriel winced as he shut the door, leaning heavily on the handle. Sam reached out and gripped his arm, more to stop the pitiful display than anything.

"Here, lean on me."

"Thanks." Hesitantly, Gabriel slipped his arm around Sam's waist as Sam held his shoulders. If the human minded, he didn't say anything.

The silence sat as they eased each other down the stairs to the parking lot.

"Are you ok?"

"I'll be fine. Hella got me well enough that I could take care of myself. Two eyes, ten fingers and ten toes. It's just…" Gabriel's hand gripped slightly tighter around Sam's waist as he stopped walking, his face contorted in pain. "Just a couple of internal injuries she missed."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just… keep being you." Gabriel laughed, relaxing slightly as whatever pain he had been in eased. His grip on Sam, however, did not relax. They kept walking.

"So… uh, are we ok?"

"Gabriel…"

"Sam."

Sam sighed, knowing from the archangel's masterfully raised eyebrow that he wasn't going to be able to get out of this conversation.

"Why were you so eager to leave the motel room?"

Doesn't mean he wasn't going to try.

"Turns out I was wrong. The bond between Dean and Castiel hasn't been severed, not entirely. Dean's doing everything he can to rebuild the bond, and that'll help Castiel's recovery. I'm a little worried about leaving Hella in there, actually, but… she can fly if she really wants to get away."

"Why?" Sam stopped, concerned. "Is it dangerous?"

"No, but there's going to be so much sexual tension when he finally wakes up that…"

"Ew, no, I don't want to hear the rest of it."  
>Gabriel laughed, and Sam's breath almost caught just at the sound of it. It was like a breeze on a warm day, a hug from a friend. It was relief.<p>

"So Castiel's going to make it?"

"As long as Dean doesn't fall back into denial. Castiel's a tough little soldier." Gabriel looked up at Sam, discomfort heavy in his face. "He knocked about twenty kinds of crap out of me before I got him down here though. It was… weird."

"Weird?"

"Terrifying." Sam felt a shudder pass through the archangel, and pulled him closer without thinking about it. "He wasn't himself. He was… livid. This feral creature living inside him, driven half mad… I had to, uh…" Gabriel winced again, his hand springing to his forehead. Sam walked him over to a nearby bench. "I had to fight him down, show him where he went wrong… bring him back to his senses, you know?"

"Wow." Sam helped Gabriel sit, before sitting down next to him.

"Yeah… a more practiced soldier of heaven than I would probably have gotten the job done sooner…"

"Hey, you did fine." Sam clapped him on the arm. "You made it out alive and with Cas intact. And you haven't run off either."

"Yeah, but I was out… what six days? Seven?"

"Closer to eight."

"Yikes. See, back in the day, Michael would have had it cleared up in a half hour. And probably not got torn to shit in the process."

"You did great, Gabriel." Sam patted the archangel's arm, suddenly realising that they had yet to disentangle form each other. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." Gabriel chuckled, before letting himself lean a little more against Sam. "So. What's going on with the two of us?"

Sam paused for a moment, wondering if he could change the subject again, before catching sight of Gabriel's raised eyebrow.

"Don't fob me off, Sam. I can always just read your thoughts."

"I don't know." Sam sighed, feeling the words drag themselves through his brain. "I just… With Dean and Cas, they're going to be sorting themselves out…"

"I didn't ask about Dean and Castiel."

"…and you and Hella have your issues…"

"I didn't ask about Hella, either. What do _you_ want, Sam?"

"I don't know." Sam leant forward, his elbows on his knees. "I want… I want to be like I was, before this whole souls mess. I want to know who I am. I want to be happy."

"Ok. So what makes you happy?" Gabriel sat forward, resting his hands on Sam's arm. "Did I… were you happy, when we were together?"

Sam looked at Gabriel. His hair still messed and untidy, the cuts and bruises on his face gone, but in the dim parking lot light his pale skin had an oddly orange glow. His eyes were muddied with fear and concern as he watched all of Sam's movements and motions, but still gleaming with that touch of soft caramel.

"I don't know." Sam murmured, slowly reaching up to rest his hand against Gabriel's cheek. "Remind me."

Gabriel obliged, leaning in to close the gap between them. As their lips met, Sam felt the great, tiresome weight he had been carrying lift from his chest, breathing freely for the first time in over a week. This time, he couldn't blame the air, the drink, the sleeplessness. It was yearning, it was wanting, it was…

As he felt Gabriel's hands press against his neck, as he felt their lips press together, he realised that he was feeling loved. The feeling was that of Gabriel being there, wanting him, telling him without words that he would always want him; it was something so foreign and scary and exciting that Sam didn't know how to take it. He broke away from the kiss, needing to breathe even if Gabriel didn't.

"I guess you must have heard all that." He said, after a while.

"Sorry." Gabriel smiled, his eyes shining. "Like I said, mind-reading isn't something you can turn off."

"Well… You know what you're getting into, at least."

"I know." Gabriel pressed another kiss to Sam's lips. "And it takes far more than that to scare me off."

"I've missed you." The words were all the more painful now that Sam got to say them out loud. "I had no way of knowing… what if you'd…"

"Hey." Gabriel held Sam's hands, giving him that heavenly, reassuring smile that only an angel could manage. Even a reluctant one like Gabriel. "Like you said; I'm here. I'm ok. I survived. And I did it because I couldn't bear to let you down again. The last time, against Lucifer, I knew all I could do was buy you time, and it made me so sad to think I couldn't do more. But this time, I did it, and I did it right. You are not alone, Sam Winchester."

Sam pulled Gabriel into a hug, pressing kisses to his forehead. They sat that way for a while, just happy to be alive. Just happy to be happy.

Gabriel sat up, his head cocked to one side, listening.

"What?"

"Hella." He muttered, still trying to decode whatever message he was getting. "She's gone to see Jör and Fen. Something happened, they're… upset? They were… I wish she'd be more specific. She said she'd be back in the morning."

Sam smiled at Gabriel, his muscles aching as he slipped into the nearly forgotten sequence of movements.

"Stay with me. In the spare room."

"Of course." Gabriel linked arms with Sam, resting his head on the human's shoulder. "Although I don't think I'll be up for anything too athletic just yet."

(-*-)

Somewhere in the back of Dean's brain, he registered that Sam had left and not returned. As a big brother, it was the sort of cataloguing system he had developed which he couldn't really turn off. But he could decide if he cared or not. As he looked down on the fervent, shaking form of Cas, who was fighting against his own body, Dean decided that Sam could look after himself. Hella had gone, too, but she had her powers again. She had mentioned Jör, and Dean knew he'd look out for her.

He pressed the damp washcloth against the newly human forehead, the exposed floorboards digging into his knees. Again, Dean vaguely registered that he would have to get Gabriel to restore the room to the state it was in when they found it, but the thought kept mostly to itself. Dean just kept pressing the washcloth against Castiel's taught, grey skin, unconsciously mirroring every facial tick and expression.

Castiel stirred in his sleep, his hand drifting up to ward against some dreamed attacker, a frightened moan escaping his lips. Dean gripped Castiel's hand in his, pressing the cooling washcloth to his cheeks and forehead.

"I'm here, Cas." He didn't have to think about the words. He wasn't even sure if Castiel could hear him, which made it a little easier, but for the most part, Dean had stopped thinking. He wasn't worried about how he might sound, about how he might be perceived. For once, he knew he was focused on feeling. When Cas felt better, he would feel better. It was a curious flip inside him. If he had been more connected to the rest of the world, he would have noticed the last time he was this intent on the way he could change how someone felt, the urge had not been to nurse or make better. It had been to destroy.

But he didn't think about that. Didn't think about anything. Just held Castiel's hand, soothing him until the frightened tension had gone.

"You scared me. Scared us all shitless, Cas… You don't do things by halves, huh?" He pressed the cloth lightly to Castiel's dried, chapped lips, watching the flush of blood turn them pink as they responded to the pressure. "If you're still you in there, if you're still the same Cas who dragged me out of the pit… and I know you are, Cas, I don't have your handprint on me for nothing, right? We want you back. Get better. We won't judge, we won't hold it against you. You just have to tell me why, and I'll beat on anyone who says they don't like you for it…"

Now he had started talking, Dean wasn't sure he could stop. He pushed back the few wet strands of hair on Castiel's forehead, and started to loosen Castiel's tie, undoing the top button of his shirt.

"You'll breathe better like this. Yeah, breathing. You've got to watch out for shit like that now. You're human, sorry 'bout that. I guess Gabriel sees angel powers as a privilege, not a right… or something. I know last time you started turning human, I wasn't too much help. I should have treated you better Cas, I know, but I didn't know how to deal with my own problems, forget keeping someone else up too. But I'll do right, this time. I'll teach you what you need to know. I raised Sam, right? I can get you through this too. Just… don't ever scare me again."

He sat back, realising that he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in the past four hours and should probably see to it. As he moved away, he felt Castiel's hand tense, gripping his.

"I'll be right back." He soothed. "I promise."

The grip relaxed slightly, and Dean pulled away to get himself a glass of water. Under the rush of the faucet, he wasn't sure if he'd imagined hearing that hoarse, scratchy voice, weak and quiet, shaking as the speaker tried to remember how to control his vocal chords.

"Dean…"

A whisper, nothing more, but it was enough to make sure Dean sat by the couch all night, watching the newly human Cas struggle with his life.


	19. Chapter 18

Hella gripped the scruff of Fen's neck, warning him to stay where he was. Not that she was any more likely to restrain herself. Jör stood in front of them slightly, his tall, powerful form exuding their mother's influence, arms crossed and silently glaring. She had the coolest big brother ever.

Mrs Kane stood behind them, a bold last wall of defence. For her age and mortality, she stared down the newcomers with just as much defiance as Loki's children, a foolhardy arrogance in her eye that only those who have lived and seen much can manage.

Behind her, Beans the Irish wolfhound protected her puppies. She had yet to go for anyone's throat, but she looked like she might, if the newcomers didn't leave soon. Hel smirked, feeling the power shifting around her. They were Loki's children.

"Admit it." She summed up the group of Valkyries, seven in total, all flawless and robotic, taking them in with emotionless eyes. "You never saw this coming, you dumb whores."

"Hel…" Jörmungandr tutted, but couldn't hide his laugh. Fenrir just growled. He was with his sister on this one.

"We were told to apprehend you." The Valkyries spoke as one, eyes boring into Hel. She didn't back down. "The gods feared that a reunion with your father would cause prophecy…"

"Which is why you were so intent on finding a new Odin."Jörmungandr finished their sentence for them, everything about him tense. "Right. And, technically, they were right. We have brought about the end of a God. But none of yours, and we mean them no harm."

"Despite how much they may have fucked us over." Hel interjected, reinforced by Fenrir's growling.

"But…" Said the Valkyries, nearly displaying some edge of reluctance. Fenrir growled and barked, knowing, even though they weren't showing it physically, they were scared. The three of them had power, maybe more so than any of the Gods the Valkyries served, and on the plane of existence beyond what mortals could see, they were destroying their opposition.

"We have told you individually. Our father has told you. We have no interest in disrupting Valhalla. I'd suggest…" Jörmungandr interjected, his tone landing him about twenty miles past 'suggest' and deep into 'command', "that you leave, and leave us alone. We've fulfilled our prophecy. We have no more part to play."

After a long, still silence, the Valkyries nodded and left, taking with them the odd, deathly quiet, and the unnerving sensation of power and dread. Jör smiled as Hella leapt into his arms. Laughing, he spun her around.

"We did it!" She laughed, beaming as Jör sat her down and she saw Fen run to his pups. He and Beans nuzzled each other under Mrs Kane's proud, watchful eye.

"Ragnarok." Jör sighed, unbelieving. "All those years, all those centuries… We actually came together and helped Dad to overthrow a God."

"Yeah… just, not the one everyone was expecting." Hella grinned, hugging him. She looked at the night sky, feeling cooler and more relaxed than she had done in a long while. Silently, she sent out a prayer.

"_We've done it, Dad. I hope it was right. I hope you're proud."_

Then, as an afterthought;

"_I'm probably going to stay with Mrs Kane tonight; I'll see you in the morning."_

Mrs Kane smiled at her, holding out her hand.

"You look like you could use a mug of cocoa and a good night's sleep, girl. After what you done, I'm not surprised."

Hella just smiled, all the way through her late supper with her brothers, right up until she fell asleep. She'd done a lot. And she didn't regret any of it.

(-*-)

Cas slept, fitfully. Dean didn't move from his spot by the couch, except to get coffee, or get rid of coffee. He had been waiting for this, and now it was here, he wasn't going to screw it up. There had been a lot of pressure, which only Dean and Gabriel had known about. He hadn't said anything, because he had never been particularly good at admitting his feelings and he wasn't about to start, but Gabriel, with his weird angel empathy, had known.

And he hadn't appreciated it.

But screw him, that wasn't important to Dean any more. What was important was that Cas needed to pull through.

It was about three a.m. when Castiel opened his eyes, heaving a rattling breath.

"Cas? Cas, can you hear me?"

"Dean." Castiel tilted his head so he could see the hunter, but the way his eyes swam and strained told Dean he was little more than a blurry shape right now.

"Yeah, Cas, it's me."

"I… I feel unwell, Dean."

"Yeah, that isn't going to change any time soon. Do you… remember what happened?"

Castiel stared at him for a moment, before his head fell back onto the arm of the couch, and his eyes fluttered closed.

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"Yes."

"You, uh, had us scared."

Castiel took another deep breath, his face crumpled in sorrow and confusion.

Castiel wept.

Dean sat by the couch. He didn't soothe. He didn't say it would be alright. Because, odds were, it probably wouldn't be. He just held Castiel's hand, and taught him why humans need to cry.

(-*-)

In the second motel room, Sam felt himself being pulled towards wakefulness by hands that were gently caressing him. He felt a weight on his chest, and looked down to see Gabriel's head rested over his heart.

"What are you doing?"

Gabriel jerked away with a start, guilty smile on his face.

"Sorry… I was, uh… there's no way I can say it without sounding like some super-freak hippy…"

"Try me." Sam smiled, resting his hand on Gabriel's back. They kept their voices low, as the flashing display of the digital clock told them it was only just seven. Plus, motel walls are thin.

"I was… getting some of my energy back by, uh… feeding off of your emotions." Gabriel looked away, and Sam couldn't help but laugh. The glare the archangel gave him would have put a stop to it, but after all he'd seen, Sam couldn't be scared of the archangel. Not right now.

"Sorry, but I've never seen you embarrassed before. I'm amazed."

"Bite me." Gabriel advised, offering only the slightest resistance as Sam pulled him back down into a hug.

"Maybe later." Sam stared up at the ceiling, feeling happiness stir within him like a tranquilized beast. It had been a long time since he'd just held someone like this, and it almost made him feel…

"Normal?" Gabriel supplied, his voice oddly small and quiet. Sam was going to have to get used to the whole mind-reading thing. He squeezed Gabriel's arm.

"Yeah."

Gabriel sat back, looking at Sam for a moment, his grey-brown eyes flashing caramel once more. He leant in, gripping Sam's neck as he kissed him. Sam kissed him right back. Gabriel broke away, resting his head back over Sam's heart. Sam took a deep breath, wondering if Gabriel was using some freaky angel power, or if he legitimately was this blissed out.

After a while, Sam pushed himself up so he sat against the headboard, meaning that Gabriel's head wound up in his lap.

Gabriel stared up at him for a moment, disgruntled frown on his face.

"You moved."

"Yeah, I was getting cramped. But, you know, if you want something to do while you're down there…"

"Ha. Oh my sides, how they split." Gabriel sighed, pushing himself up so he could sit next to Sam. "First off, no. Second, you really don't want a blowjob from the Herald of God."

"Why not?"

"You know that old joke about Superman's dog? If he humps your leg, you'll be in traction for a week?"

Gabriel grinned, eyes glinting, and Sam really wasn't sure whether he was joking or not. In the end, he settled for leaning back against the headboard and wrapping his arms around the archangel.

"So… Last night. That was a thing that happened."

"Which bit?" Gabriel said, dryly. "The 'me bringing back Castiel' bit, or the 'us sleeping together now you're not too drunk to deny it' bit?"

"The second one." Sam sighed. "Are you…" God, he sounded like such a girl. "Are you sticking around?"

"Looks like it." Gabriel sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of Sam's hand, for no real reason other than that it was there. "I mean, there's no heaven, really, no Host. I doubt the Pagans are going to want me back. Plus…" He smiled up at Sam, a look of cocky defiance in his eyes. "I'm not going to walk out on someone who fucks like that."

"Classy." Sam acknowledged, laughing as Gabriel playfully bit his finger. "So, are we… I mean, would you want to… I don't know, be a thing? Like, a relationship?"

"You humans do make love unbearably hard for yourselves, don't you?" Gabriel sighed, moving away a little so he could look Sam properly in the eye. He cleared his throat. "Sam Winchester, I would like to ascertain your permission to begin courting you, and solely you, for the duration of your natural lifespan, or until one of us becomes unbearably irritating to the other, whichever comes first. Formal enough for you?"

"Dick." Sam rolled his eyes. Gabriel shrugged.

"Did you ever see Kate and Leopold? Good film. Cheesy and trite, but good."

Sam ignored him. "I just mean… I like you. And I'd like to do this, and the whole relationship thing, but I wanted to know whether you felt the same. And, you know, whether or not we'd tell people."

Gabriel seemed to be considering his response, and was about to speak when there was a knock at the door. It sounded somewhat timid.

"Yeah?" Sam called, without moving.

"Hey." Hella's voice drifted through the closed door. Sam tried very hard to listen to what she was saying, and not thinking 'oh shit oh shit I fucked your Dad last night'. Gabriel must have picked up on it, because he bit his fist as he fought to keep his laughter silent.

"Castiel's awake and feeling a little bit better, so Dean's decided we're all going to go to the diner across the parking lot for breakfast. He says get your ass in gear or we'll order without you."

"Thanks, Hella." Sam called back, scowling at Gabriel, who was trying very hard to compose himself.

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Hella paused for a moment, before he saw the door creak open and a ball of material fly through the gap at them.

"Dad left his shirt in the hall. Thought he might need it."

Gabriel froze in some sort of mute horror. Then it was Sam's turn to fight back laughter, as Gabriel buried his face against the hunter's arm.

"So we'll see you two in the diner?" Hella's voice drifted through the crack in the door, and Sam managed to stop laughing for long enough to say "yes."

There was a pause.

"You know, a 'thank you for returning my shirt, which for some reason was dropped outside…'"

"Yes." Gabriel didn't move his head form Sam's arm. "Thank you, Hel."

The door closed and they heard Hella running down the corridor. Sam found himself unable to keep his laughter quiet, because he doubted he would ever not find Gabriel's 'paternal tone' hilarious. Something about the trickster trying to be a disciplinarian just didn't work.

"Shut up." Gabriel groaned, prizing his face away from Sam's shoulder.

Sam smirked. Gabriel scowled, and kissed him, which got rid of the smirk for about ten seconds.

"I guess we're telling people, then?" Sam laughed, as Gabriel pushed aside the covers and got up.

"No." He corrected. "Hella's telling people. And I think we should get there as soon as possible to control the situation."

"Fair point." Sam mumbled, yawning and pushing aside the covers.

There was a snap, and he suddenly found himself much more clothed than he had previously been. It was… disconcerting.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to ask you to not do that." Sam grimaced at the sudden onset of mint in his mouth. Gabriel had apparently washed him and brushed his teeth for him too.

"Never again." Gabriel held up his hand, looking about as honest as Sam was a unicorn. "But these are desperate times."

He realised Gabriel was dressed too, as the archangel pushed past him and opened the door, and for a moment, Sam wondered exactly what he had gotten himself in to. Then, as he walked, he noticed a more pressing concern.

"Gabriel?"

"Yes?" The archangel was grinning wickedly, making Sam dread the answer to his question.

"Exactly what kind of underwear am I wearing right now?"

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, grabbed Sam's hand, and started discussing breakfast.

(-*-)

When they got to the diner, things didn't look too good. Hella, Dean and Castiel were all in a booth, Hella and Castiel on one side, Dean seated on a chair at the end of the table. Gabriel and Sam slipped into the empty side, noting Hella and Dean with their trouble-making smirks, and Castiel who was staring sheepishly at the table.

There was a moment of silence, before Dean cleared his throat.

"Uh… Sam, the waitress came around before you guys got here, so we… ordered for you, if that's ok."

"That's fine." Sam said, glad that Dean was at least trying to be mature about it and not tease the hell out of him. Maybe they'd all grown up a little bit…

"Yeah, we just went right on ahead and… ordered you a short stack."

Then again, thought Sam, as Dean and Hella descended into fits of giggles and he was sure he saw Castiel crack a smile, maybe not.

"Nice. Great. Thanks for that." Gabriel scowled, aiming for 'powerful archangel' but hitting 'undermined patriarch' instead. "And Hella, you should be ashamed of yourself. Spying on your own father…"

"I wasn't spying!" She gave an indignant squeak, before pulling a disgusted face. "Why would I want to spy on you two doing _that_?"

"Oh really?" Gabriel glared at her. "If you weren't spying, just how did you find out?"

Hella and Dean both stared awkwardly at their plates, suspiciously looking everywhere but at Castiel. Castiel, who had been oddly quiet, even for him. Gabriel leant across the table, poking him in the forehead.

"Not cool, bro."

"I didn't mean to." Castiel sighed, glaring at Gabriel. "My grace is not entirely gone. I can still sense emotions and other angels…"

"So you told everyone?"

"I… was experimenting with the human urge to… get revenge." Castiel smirked, glancing quickly at Dean. Dean beamed like a proud friend. "I admit, I found it rather satisfying."

Gabriel glared for a moment, before turning to Sam.

"Your brother is a bad influence."

"Dude!" Dean glared, looking unreasonably offended. "You're the one who left your brother on his deathbed to go hook up with _Sam_."

"Whoa, what's that supposed to mean?" Sam, who had until then been watching the proceedings with a sort of resigned good humour, turned to face his brother. "Like if it was anyone else, that would have been better?"

"And he was not on his deathbed." Gabriel tutted, sitting back. "I knew he'd be fine, the way you were cooing over him. I mean look at him, he's walking and talking already. Clearly that "deeper, more profound bond" crap is paying off."

Castiel looked up sharply, and said something in Enochian. Gabriel raised an eyebrow and responded, his tone implying that his younger brother had better check himself.

It was at that point a waiter who looked something like a young Ryan Reynolds with a mullet sauntered up to Hella's side of the table, all swagger.

"Ok, we have a short stack, short stack and sausage, tuna melt with a side of toast, and…" He grinned down at Hella, who blushed. "And chocolate chip pancakes. Hey."

"Hi…"

"That was three coffees, a water and a milkshake to drink, right?"

"Right." Dean grunted, his face set.

"Three coffees for the three of us," Gabriel interjected, his tone so cold it was amazing the waiter didn't drop dead of hypothermia then and there, "The water's for my brother there, and the milkshake would be for my daughter."

If the waiter had been listening, he didn't seem to care. He just winked at Hella and swaggered back to the kitchen. Hella blushed again. Gabriel stared for a moment, before standing.

"We're swapping seats."

"What?"

"Yes, I want you over there, away from Mr. Sleazeball."

"But…"

"Seriously?" Dean grimaced, looking at Hella like she was mad. "The dude had a mullet. I know you've led a kinda sheltered upbringing, Hella, so let me spell it out for you. Mullets don't bode well."

"Well, with the exception of Ash." Sam amended, for fairness. "But even then, he slept on a pool table. They're right, Hella, I don't trust that guy."

"Oh, that's fair." Hella huffed, protesting as Gabriel pointed to the seat he'd just vacated. "Everyone gets a boyfriend except Hella. You guys are such hypocrites."

"Whoa, who said anything about a boyfriend?" Dean held up his hands, a blush creeping across his cheeks. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Don't worry." Gabriel hissed to Cas in a stage whisper. "He doesn't really mean it."

"Why would I worry about Dean's emotional attachments?" Castiel looked up from his toast, nonplussed.

"Don't confuse him." Sam sighed, prodding his pancakes with a fork.

"But it's so easy!" Gabriel whined, grinning as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, Dad, can you not be totally humiliating in public?"

"I'm with her; not while we're eating. I mean, I accept that you two are a thing, whatever, but I don't want to see it."

"Why would you say that?" Sam glared at his brother. "You know he'll only take it as a challenge."

And so they bickered, argued and laughed all the way through their breakfast, restoring the motel room, and checking out. Sam and Dean drove back to Bobby's, with Castiel sleeping across the back-seat. Gabriel and Hella flew, talking excitedly in Norwegian. Before they left, Sam caught the word "Valkyrie" and "Jörmungandr", but other than that he decided he didn't want to know.

The ride home (it was odd that he thought of it as home now, and Sam wondered what that meant for the family business, or indeed Bobby's sanity), was long and taxing, with Dean deciding it was the best time to have a serious talk.

"So. You and Gabriel."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know you, uh… well, you know. Guys."

"Gabriel says the gender of an angel's vessel is irrelevant. It kind of… their angel-ness transcends physical form. Kind of hard to explain."

"Yeah, but… you remember the part where it's Gabriel, right? Gabriel who put us in TV land? Gabriel who killed me over and over again and made you watch?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "He's different. Before, he wanted us to hate him. He didn't want us to ask for his help. But now he's on our side, properly."

"Yeah…" Dean grunted, sounding unconvinced. "It's just… are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I know." Sam smiled, staring out at the road in front of them. "And we might not be "bond-mates", or whatever you and Castiel are, but we know how we feel for each other."

That shut Dean up for a while.

(-*-)

The night sky was clearer than any of them could remember it being for a long time. The cold air sent shivers across Castiel's shoulders, which were instantly soothed by Dean's warm hands. He smiled, thankfully.

Gabriel watched them from the other side of the porch, absent-mindedly pressing Sam's hand to his lips.

Soon after they had returned to Bobby's, Castiel had offered a sincere and humble apology to the old hunter, which had been grudgingly accepted. Everyone present knew Bobby had allowed Castiel forgiveness more for Dean's benefit than anything else, but no one wanted to rock the boat. Sam and Gabriel were happy to supply a target for any hostility, as the "annoying new couple". For them, it was all in fun.

Hella seemed to love bouncing between the grown men, the central pull to link everyone together. Right now, she was leaning against the railing of the porch, humming "Johnny Come Lately" to herself. Dean had been educating both her and Castiel to music, which Gabriel had stated he would allow as long as he got to teach them about films and TV.

Sam stared out over the sky, hoping the weather reports had been right.

"S'cold." Bobby was leaning against the back wall of the house, staring at the sky.

"I could make cocoa?" Hella suggested, smiling.

"Won't be as good as mine." Gabriel sing-songed, teasing her. Hella stuck her tongue out at him, and stared at her hands, creating a tray and six mugs of cocoa. Dean, Cas and Bobby each took one of the mugs, grateful of the warmth. She handed the tray to Sam and focused on her hands again, creating a large pack of marshmallows.

Gabriel smiled at her for a moment, before snapping his fingers, and handing the resultant bottle of Tia Maria to Bobby. Hella gaped.

"That's your secret ingredient?"

"No." Gabriel tutted. "I wouldn't have plied my child with alcohol. That's just something that'll give it a bit of kick."

"Oh." She nodded, before nudging him. "Tell me what it is?"

He thought for a moment.

"Love."

She threw a marshmallow at him, and everyone groaned. Gabriel continued smiling, sweeping Hella into a hug.

"There they are!" Sam pointed up to the sky. The weather reports had been predicting it for the last couple of days, and now, here it was. 'An unmatched meteorological phenomenon' is what they were calling it on TV. Thousands of unidentified meteorites, falling stars, tumbling across the sky all around Earth. Gabriel smirked at Castiel, dragging his eyes away from the amazing sight.

"We did that."

"So… are they the souls?" Bobby pushed back his hat, scratching at his head.

"Yes." Castiel sighed. "Not all of them. But many."

"And they're crashing to Earth." Dean nodded, pouring Tia Maria into his cocoa. "Why does that not sound like a good thing?"

"It does probably mean there's going to be a whole ton of monsters wandering around." Gabriel nodded, looking up at the sky. "Funny… they look so harmless, all the way out there."

"So…" Sam looked around at the others. "Does this mean we're back in business?"

"There's always people need saving." Bobby sighed, taking the Tia Maria back from Dean and pouring a generous amount into his own mug.

"Well alright." Dean nudged Castiel in the shoulder. "We're going to have to train you up… maybe get you a stab vest or something."

"Castiel with a gun." Sam muttered, shuddering to himself. Castiel looked form one Winchester to the other.

"I'd rather not be directly amongst the monsters. I don't think I'm…"

"Sufficiently kick-ass?" Gabriel supplied. Hella threw another marshmallow at him.

"Well Hella's not going on any more hunts unless there's no other option." Sam stated, staring out at the stars. "We can have the two of you as our researchers."

"Uh, do I get a say in this?" Hella pouted. Sam and Dean both smirked.

"No."

"Bobby, they're being mean."

They laughed, watching as Hella went to hug Bobby, who had become something of an adoptive grandfather over the last few days. Sam wrapped an arm around Gabriel, staring up at the sky, knowing that each falling star represented a future case, but for now he was intent to just enjoy the show.

As he hugged Gabriel tighter, Sam let out a deep breath, that he felt like he'd been holding for a long time, and smiled as it was instantly whipped away by the cold wind. So this was what stood between humanity and it's ever-present doom; Two brothers both struggling to make sense of what their lives had become, one tired old hunter, one fallen angel, one ex-trickster, and a girl with daddy issues.

Sam smiled to himself. They were a formidable team.


End file.
